


The Witch and the Maiden

by goldenEY3, MarziDocs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Halloween AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 113,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenEY3/pseuds/goldenEY3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarziDocs/pseuds/MarziDocs
Summary: Based on the Halloween/Junkenstein event.For years, the Witch of the Wilds has terrorized the realm. And she has come again, only this time promising a great war and total destruction.To save the realm, Fareeha Amari is sold to the Witch. This comes as a surprise not only to her, but to the Witch of the Wilds as well.Thrown in with the alluring Witch, Fareeha has to adjust to a new life. A new life where the Witch, the enemy of the realm, doesn't seem so threatening. In fact, she seems like any other woman Fareeha would date...





	1. Seven Days to All Hallows’ Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Witch of The Wilds and The Knight She Couldn't Tame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682525) by [MarziDocs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarziDocs/pseuds/MarziDocs). 



> This is based on the abandoned work of MarziDocs. Many thanks for letting me re-hash this!

All Hallows’ Eve was upon the kingdom, and the mood was tense. Legends spoke of a time when All Hallows’ Ever was a joyous time, a time for remembering the fallen and cherishing their memories, a time for children to dress up and go door-to-door for candy dressed as ghosts and ghouls, a time to feast and celebrate the harvest.

Those were times long before the Witch of the Wilds.

For as long as anyone could remember, upon All Hallows’ Eve, the Witch of the Wilds would descend upon the castle in a vengeful fury. Either provoked by an earlier slight, or at the side of another seeking vengeance for a perceived wrongdoing, the Witch would fly through the village, towards the castle, bringing destruction and terror in her wake.

For the last two years, the mad Doctor Junkenstein has signed a pact with the Witch, and used her unholy magic to fuel his creations in his mad attempt to bring King Reinhardt low and his castle down upon his ears, all for what the mad doctor called a ‘grievous insult,’ but one where no one could remember what provoked such a reaction. For those two years, four heroes, the Fabled Four, stood against the onslaught, spearheading the defense of the castle, barely surviving the night.

No one wanted to know what horrors this Hallows’ Eve would bring.

“Come, feast!” King Reinhardt bellowed. He sat at the head of the table in the massive banquet hall, hoisting an equally massive flagon of ale, and dressed in royal finery. “Eat, drink, and be merry! The time of the harvest is here, and we must savor the fruits of our labors!”

Reinhardt was a massive man, jovial and strong. He was everything a king should be; noble, honorable, and beholden to his subjects. Yet all could hear the strain in his massive voice; the king was scared.

Everyone was scared.

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” the Archer sighed, “for tomorrow, we die.”

“Come now, this is not the time for such morbidity,” King Reinhardt said. “This is today, that is tomorrow! No point in worrying about _then_ when we have _now_.”

The Archer sighed. A traveler from a foreign land, he was but a transient guest when King Reinhardt first put out the call to arms when Dr. Junkenstein assaulted the castle two years ago. He had agreed, and after a night of bloodshed, he became one of the Fabled Four who rallied the defense against the monsters.

After the mad doctor’s defeat, the king begged him to stay as a hero, a guest of honor. The dark-haired man agreed, and quickly become a common sight at the castle.

“You are right,” the Archer sighed. “That is a problem for another day.”

“Ach, of course it is! Come now, drink your fill! And if you have any more of that lovely sake, please share.”

The Archer smiled a tight, barely-there smile, and held his flagon up to toast the king. To his side, the Gunslinger raised his as well. Every Knight, Thane, Shield-Maiden, and subject in the hall raised their flagons. The only one who didn’t cheer was the old Soldier, looking alone without the company of the Alchemist at his side.

“Come now, my friend, do you not want to join us?” King Reinhardt said.

“Sorry, just a little paranoid,” the Soldier said. “I don’t like to drink when a battle is coming.”

“So serious,” Reinhardt groaned. “I’m sure the Alchemist would like you more if you loosened up.”

“The Alchemist and I have our own way of celebrating,” the Soldier tensely replied. “We’re both professionals.”

“Speaking of which, where is that little Alchemist?”

“She’s in her lab, with her daughter,” the Soldier said. “They’re preparing for the inevitable.”

“Fine, let them sit this feast out,” the King said.

“My king!”

A crier ran into the hall, gasping for breath. His face was as white as a ghost.

“What is it?”

“T-t-t-the Witch!”

The mood immediately shifted. The Archer, the Gunslinger, and the Soldier immediately went for their weapons, seconds ahead of every Knight, Thane, and Shield-Maiden in the hall.

“Where is she?” King Reinhardt demanded, getting to his feet while grabbing for his war hammer. While he was out of his battle armor, he was still a massive man. And with his war hammer, he was even more of a threatening figure.

“She’s…she’s here.”

“Where?!”

“As the man said, I am here,” a delicate voice said.

The Witch of the Wilds, sitting on her broom, floated in from the hallway and into the banquet hall. She wore a black, wide-brimmed, pointed hat, with a black and brown dress with orange flares. The dress was lasciviously low-cut, and with a salacious slit that showed off as much of her stocking-covered legs as possible. A book sat at her waist, a wide, lop-sided grin upon on her lips.

For as long as anyone could remember, the Witch had always looked like a young woman, even though she was easily centuries old. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her hair a light gold, and her eyes sparkling with mischief.

But no one let her inherent beauty bewitch them. Every weapon in the hall was immediately primed, pointed at the witch.

“Such a warm welcome,” she pouted. “Is this how you treat all of your guests?”

“You are not a guest,” King Reinhardt spat. “You are not welcome in these halls!”

“But I’ve asked for an audience with you,” the Witch smiled back, leaning her elbows on the broom. “I’ve asked to be let into these halls as a guest, not as a threat.”

“You? A guest? Don’t make me laugh!” Reinhardt bellowed.

“I-It’s true, milord,” the crier stammered. “She came here unarmed, with a white flag of truce.”

The Witch held up a white kerchief, playfully flitting it about.

“She…she requested guest rights, milord.”

The mood almost physically shifted. At first, everyone was scared, tense, ready to fight. But now, even the dour Soldier was confused.

“Guest rights?” Reinhardt asked.

“Yes, guest rights,” the Witch said. “I drink your wine, eat your food, and no harm will become of this meeting. To anyone, from anyone.”

“You will not attack us? Curse us?”

“And you will return the favor,” the Witch said.

The Archer, Gunslinger, and Soldier kept their eyes, and their weapons, trained on the Witch. But every other eye in the hall turned towards the King.

“What do you mean to do?” He said.

“I just want to talk,” the Witch said.

“And if I refuse?”

“Always want to know what the options are, don’t you?” the Witch laughed. “If you refuse, I will still want to talk. Only things become…less pleasant.”

The Witch snapped her fingers. Smoke ran along the ground, coalescing into a puddle. From that smoke puddle rose a man wreathed in black and shadows, with a stark white mask. It was the Reaper.

“Things will become less civil.”

The Soldier growled at the Reaper. The white mask didn’t have any eyes, but the Reaper turned to glare back at the Soldier.

King Reinhardt gnashed his teeth.

“Fine.”

“Milord?”

“Give her a goblet of wine, and a piece of bread,” the king ordered. “And a helping for her damned bodyguard. I expect your chained killer to follow these rules too, Witch.”

“Oh, no need to remind him,” the Witch smiled. “Reaper will behave himself. Ever a man such as him bows to the will of the gods, both old and new.”

A serving page stepped forward, carrying two goblets of wine; the goblets shook as the terrified man handed them off to the Witch and the Reaper. The King held his flagon aloft.

“In accordance with the Old Gods, we honor guest right,” the King said. “No violence will be brought into this house, no blood spilt. On our souls, we swear it.”

“Amen,” the Witch said.

The oath was recited flawlessly, but it was purely a formality. One did not simply make an oath to the Old Gods; breaking such an oath would draw their ire, and their divine retribution.

The King sipped at his wine. The Reaper didn’t seem to have a mouth, but he gingerly sipped as well. The Witch, however, downed hers like there was a drop at the bottom.

“This is a marvelous vintage,” she said. “My compliments to the vineyard.”

The page handed them two pieces of bread, to which both the Reaper and Witch broke and ate. The King followed suit.

The mood shifted again, with everyone lowering their weapons, even the Soldier.

“You have your guest rights,” King Reinhardt said, setting his war hammer down. “By the will of the old gods, you are protected from us, and us from you. Now, what do you want?”

“First, I will have to get more of this lovely wine,” the Witch said, sitting upright on her broom. “It is truly fantastic.”

“Give her as much as she wants,” Reinhardt spat.

“Don’t tempt me,” the Witch laughed. But she held out her goblet as a page refilled it. “Now, where was I…?”

“The reason you were here.”

“Yes, of course! All Hallows’ Eve is a week away. On that day, when the sun sets, I will attack your castle.”

King Reinhardt pounded the table with his massive fist. Everything on it jumped as he vented his anger.

“You have taken guest rights!” He bellowed. “You will not make any threats while you are eating my food and drinking my drink, oath breaker!”

“I’m not _threatening_ you, I’m _promising_ you,” the Witch said, throwing back her wine. “There is a big difference between the two. I’m still honoring guest rights.”

“Why do you do this? Why must you torment us…?”

“Because it always seems to happen every year,” the Witch said. “Have you ever noticed that? Somebody makes a pact that they don’t keep…” the Witch cast a heavy gaze at King Reinhardt, who stiffened, “or someone makes me an offer to bring you down. I don’t want to do it, but things happen, and my hand is forced.”

“Oh, poor you,” the Soldier sarcastically lamented.

“I’m glad somebody agrees with me,” the Witch said. “Don’t you grow tired of it all? I have. These past ten years have been especially burdensome. And that sinister Alchemist, shooting me in the heart…”

The Witch pulled her already low-cut dress down even further, revealing an old, scarred bullet wound that sat dead-center of her breast.

“Next time, have her use silver bullets,” the Witch said.

“I will melt down every scrap of silver in the kingdom and throw it all at you,” the King spat.

“That’s the spirit,” the Witch smiled, finishing her goblet. She held it out to be refilled again. “In seven days’ time, I will attack your castle with everything that I have. All my magic, all my minions, all of those who had made a pact with me in the past, and we can end this charade. Doesn’t that sound like a relief? One way or another, this will all come to an end.”

Murmurs broke out among the thanes. The Archer and Gunslinger traded dark looks, knowing full well how much power the Witch wielded.

The Soldier never took his eyes off the Reaper.

“Isn’t there something we can do?” The Gunslinger asked, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” The Witch asked.

“You make pacts, right?” The Gunslinger said. “You make an agreement with someone, and you honor it, right?”

“As long as the other end of the bargain is held, yes.”

“Then can we make a new agreement with you? A new pact? One where you don’t attack?”

“My dear, this happens every year,” the Witch laughed, leaning back on her broom. She nearly spilled some of her wine. “And every year, I’m disappointed. I’m generous with my pacts, yet they’re almost never kept. No, there won’t be a way to get out of this. I’m looking for an end.”

“An end to the realm?” The Archer asked.

“Or an end to me,” the Witch said. “Either way, an end will come.”

“There must be something,” the King gasped. “Is there a book in our library that you would accept as payment?”

“There are plenty of books that I’d like, but none as payment.”

“Any items? Any magical items? My thanes have gone on many quests to find enchanted relics.”

“I can make those any old time I’d want.”

“Gold? Silver? Precious jewels?”

“Bribery? Don’t insult me.”

“Please, there has to be something,” King Reinhardt gasped. “Anything!”

“Nothing,” the Witch said. “The only thing I want is an end to this.”

“I would do anything to save the lives of my subjects,” Reinhardt pleaded. “Please, _anything_ to spare them this fate you’ve chosen.”

The Witch tilted her head back and laughed.

“Fine, I’ll give you one last chance to weasel your way out of this. What to ask, what to ask…?”

The hall went quiet as the Witch made her demand.

“The Alchemist has a daughter, doesn’t she?” She asked rhetorically.

“King Reinhardt, go to the Alchemist, and take her daughter from her. She’s already a woman grown, a soldier is your army, but I want you to take her from her mother. Take her from her home, make her surrender herself to you entirely, body and soul, then deliver her to me.”

“What?” The Soldier demanded.

“Quiet,” the King said.

“You’re not taking her daughter! You’re not taking anyone--!”

“I said quiet!” Reinhardt bellowed.

Silence quickly filled the hall.

“If we do this,” the King slowly said, “you will spare us? This is your pact?”

“Yes, yes, yes, of course,” the Witch said, waving her hand as if she was trying to speed the entire process up.

“V-very well,” Reinhardt said. “In one week’s time, you will have the Alchemist’s daughter.”

“I bet,” the Witch said. It was clear from her tone that she didn’t expect to have her wish granted. “Then prepare yourself, your army, and your people. Come All Hallows’ Eve, this shall all be over.”

“Where shall we meet you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about we start things off in the cemetery? Seems like a symbolic enough place.”

The Witch finished her third goblet of wine, handed it back to the page, and spun around on her broom, floating off through the hall, the Reaper following her by floating along the floor.

King Reinhardt collapsed into his throne.

“What have you done?” The Soldier demanded.

“What had to be done to save this kingdom,” Reinhardt said. “Either we sacrifice one person, or everyone in this realm shall perish.”

“I’d rather fight her entire damned army than surrender Fareeha!”

“You would fight, and you would die,” the Archer said. “Her magic is strong. We have barely held out against Dr. Junkenstein; what makes you think we can stand against the full might of the Witch of the Wilds?”

Reinhardt raised a hand. A page dashed forward.

“Summon the Alchemist and her daughter,” he said. “I…I have to ask them, for the sake of the kingdom.”


	2. Seven Days to All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha is summoned to the King, where he makes a demand.

“My king, what ails you?” The Alchemist said, a smile on her face as she entered the banquet hall. “My apologies, but my daughter and I were at a critical stage of our work. Munitions must be stocked up, prepared for the attack.”

Fareeha could tell the mood in the hall was sour the second she set foot into the feast hall. Thanes, men-at-arms, serving men and women all refused to look them in the eyes. Or eye, in the case of her mother’s missing orb. Even her sisters in the Shield-Maidens had their eyes glued to the floor. It wasn’t like the King to have a solemn feast.

She turned to the Soldier. He was the closest thing to a father that she’d ever had, yet even he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. His face was flushed, filled with barely held rage and shame.

“I understand,” King Reinhardt mumbled.

Even the King was taken with this strange melancholy. His normal speaking voice was big enough to fill even the largest room, yet now Fareeha nearly missed what he said. He sat on his throne, folded into himself.

“My king, what is it?” Her mother asked.

“We…we had just received the Witch of the Wilds,” the King said.

“What?” the Alchemist demanded. “The Witch was here?! Why were we not summoned? Why did we not attack her?”

“Because she took guest rights.”

“You gave the Witch of the damned Wilds guest rights?” Fareeha said. “You broke bread with her, gave her drink?”

“She came under the white flag of truce, she bore no weapons, she even asked the crier for an audience with me! What was I to do, turn her away and risk her wrath?” The King snapped. “She just came to talk, to give us her promise.”

“And that is?” the Alchemist said.

“That in seven days’ time, on Hallows’ Eve, she will attack us with everything that she has. Every spell, every minion, everyone whom had entered a pact with her, they will all attack the castle.”

Fareeha and her mother fell silent.

“Did she _threaten_ that, or did she _promise_ that?” Fareeha asked.

“It was a promise. She didn’t break guest rights.”

“There has to be something we can do,” her mother said.

“Aye, there is.”

The King said that so quietly, it was like he was whispering. Fareeha’s stomach dropped out from under her.

“Your…you…”

King Reinhardt started and stammered several times.

“She wants your daughter,” he finally choked out. Tears leaked from his eyes. “Fareeha, she wants you.”

Now it felt like the world was pulled out from under Fareeha.

“…What?”

“The Witch of the Wilds wants you, in return for sparing the castle and the realm.”

“She cannot have my daughter,” the Alchemist stammered. “She won’t have her! I won’t let her!”

“My dear, I am so, so sorry to have to ask this of you…”

“No! I won’t allow it!” Her mother snapped. “Jack! Talk sense into him!”

The Soldier couldn’t meet her mother’s gaze.

“We all know how powerful the Witch is,” Reinhardt said. “Every attack before now, it was not the full measure of her power. If she wants us all dead, we will be in the afterlife before we would know it.”

“You will not take my daughter!”

Her mother was slightly shorter than Fareeha, and much thinner. Her strength was not in her muscles, but rather in her brains, in her alchemy. Yet she stood in front of Fareeha like she alone would stop the entire world from spinning, just to keep her safe.

Fareeha should’ve been insulted. She was a veteran Shield-Maiden, a sworn knight of the realm. She had faced the Witch’s minions before on the field of battle before, she could protect herself. But hearing the Witch’s demands scared her, shook her to the core. Suddenly she was a child again, wanting her mother’s protection.

“Ana, please, I take no pleasure in asking this of you,” the King said. “But this is for the good of the kingdom.”

“If she takes my daughter, who will she take next year?” Her mother yelled. “Then whom will she take next?! Where will it end?”

“Ana, please, stop,” the King said. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it is.”

“Don’t make me,” her mother cried. “Don’t give me that order. You can’t.”

“I have to. It’s the only way to save everyone.”

Fareeha couldn’t believe what was happening.

King Reinhardt stood up and walked towards them.

“Ana Amari, my Alchemist, you are a Shield-Maiden of the realm, sworn to my loyalty. And as your king, I order you to surrender your daughter to me, so we may give her to the Witch of the Wilds,” he said. Then he turned to Fareeha. “Fareeha Amari, you are also a sworn Shield-Maiden to my name; I order you to surrender yourself, body and soul, to my will. You will give yourself to the Witch of the Wilds, to save the people you are sworn to defend.”

Her mother screamed, tearing at her hair, and Fareeha finally fell to her knees, along with her mother.

“You bastard!” Her mother yelled. “You spineless craven! You cur! You servile villein!”

Her life was over. Just when she was made captain of the guard, just when she had taken an apprentice to train. Around her, she could see the sworn men and women turn away from her mother as she yelled and cursed the king.

“Ana.” The Soldier had finally broken from his spot towards the head of the table, kneeling before her. “Please.”

She pulled out of the Soldier’s grasp and pounded on his chest.

“Make him take it back! Don’t make him do this!”

“I’m just a Soldier,” the old man said. “An old soldier at that. I can’t tell a king what to do.”

Her mother let out another strangled cry, beating her tiny fists against the Soldier’s chest. He gently pulled her in to a deep hug, and she broke down. With his second hand, he pulled Fareeha in with him. She was so stunned, so shocked, she let him.

Looking up from the Soldier’s embrace, Fareeha saw the King standing ahead of them, crying freely. But he stood tall, doing what had to be done.

“My Alchemist,” he slowly said, “my Shield-Maiden, I need your answer.”

The Soldier let her mother go, leaving her sitting on the ground, disheveled and crying.

“This hurts me as much as it hurts you,” Reinhardt said. “Please know that.”

Sniffing and crying from her one remaining eye, her mother looked up.

“I-I am a soldier, an Amari,” she stammered. “My family has served yours for generations. You are our king, our giver of rings. We can…we can…”

It seemed to take forever for her mother to get the words out.

“We can only obey,” her mother cried.

King Reinhardt nodded darkly.

“You surrender your daughter to me?”

“I do.”

“Fareeha Amari, do you surrender yourself to me?”

Suddenly it was very hard for Fareeha to speak.

“I-I am a soldier of the realm,” she stammered. “I’m honor bound to defend the crown, and the people. I was taught…”

Fareeha’s voice caught in her throat. She was a soldier, and soldiers had to obey. Back when she was a little girl, that was the first singular lesson her mother drilled into her head. The image floated in her head, it was when her mother had both eyes.

_“We are soldiers, Fareeha,”_ her mother had told her. _“We obey the king, and the king protects us. You must always obey.”_

Dry-swallowing, Fareeha continued.

“From when I was a child, I was taught that your will is my will, your wish is my wish. Yes, I surrender myself to you. Give me to the Witch of the Wilds.”

“Thank you,” King Reinhardt whispered. “Thank you both. Your sacrifice will save the people of this realm, and we may be safe. Thank you so much.”

The King took a second to compose himself.

“The Witch will be arriving on All Hallows’ Eve, at the cemetery. You have a week with your daughter; make the most of it. Anything that you want shall be yours.”

 

* * *

 

Having been dismissed from the King’s halls, Fareeha wondered back to her apartment in a haze.

She was being given away to the Witch of the Wilds. Nothing seemed real. It was like she was watching a movie, utterly detached.

Her mother had begged to come, but was inconsolable. The Soldier had taken her back to their house to recover, leaving Fareeha alone. She had barely made it past the door of her apartment when she collapsed.

What was happening? What was her life coming to?

“Fareeha?”

Fareeha was slowly jerked back to reality, wherever ‘reality’ was. She felt like she was disassociating.

“Fareeha!”

It was Lena. Her brown-haired friend was running up the stairs to her apartment, and ran in to her, the light blue of her chronal accelerator illuminating the dark stairwell. In her haze, Fareeha hadn’t even closed the door. She had collapsed against the wall just inside her apartment’s mini-foyer.

“Fareeha, gods, we just heard,” Lena said. She ran in, quickly wrapping her in a hug. “We just got here.”

Finally snapped out of her haze, Fareeha could see the diminutive Hana and massive Zarya run in as well.

“It can’t be,” Zarya said. “The King couldn’t have given a Shield-Maiden away.”

“He did,” Fareeha said. Even that came out as barely more than a sigh. It all seemed so unreal.

“No,” Hana gasped. “He…that’s not possible!”

“The Witch promised to invade us,” Fareeha said. “Everything she has, she’ll throw at us. Anyone who’s made a pact with her, every minion she created, everything.”

“Even Junkenstein’s damned Monster?” Zarya asked.

“I guess.”

“I’ll break that thing this time, I swear,” her pink-haired friend swore. But at the same time, her hand went to her forehead; the Monster was the one who gave Zarya the scar across her brow.

“She said that she’ll attack us, unless she gets me,” Fareeha said.

“I don’t care what she throws at us,” Zarya said. “We do not sell our friends away! That is not what this kingdom does, this is what my birth kingdom did!”

Fareeha stared at Zarya. She never talked about her birth kingdom, the fate that befell it, or the reason she came to the realm as a refugee.

“We sacrificed soldiers to the Omnics during the Crisis,” Zarya raged. “Sent them to die, pressed their dead bodies against the cogs of the machines to try and get them to slow down. We sent civilians and children at them with bombs! What did it get us? Millions dead, a fallen kingdom, and thousands of us running for our lives! We sacrificed ourselves, and all it did was kill us faster than the Omnics!

“I chose this kingdom because you never surrender your friends. You _never_ give them away for the sake of the mission. I would never give up a sister Maiden to that damned Witch! Once a Maiden, always a Maiden, and we protect our sisters!”

“Zarya, please, you know we barely hold out even in the best of times,” Lena said.

“So we let the King sell a sister into slavery?!”

“I can’t think of anything else,” Fareeha mumbled.

“But you can’t go,” Hana said. “I’m your apprentice. You just started training me! You’re the reason I became a Maiden!”

“I’m sorry, Hana, but the King gave me an order,” she said. “As a Shield-Maiden, a sworn defender of the realm, I have to obey my king.”

Lena squeezed her hard. Coming from the small, thin, woman, it wasn’t much. But Fareeha couldn’t let her friend go.

“We have to obey,” Lena said. “We took oaths to obey the King.”

“And when we swore our oath to the King, he took an oath, too. An oath to protect us,” Zarya raged. “He can’t go spending us like coin, selling us off to secure peace! I’ll demand that he release you!”

“A Maiden, demand something from the King?” Hana said. “Zarya, have you ever heard of that happening?”

“Then we’ll gather our sisters,” Zarya continued. “We won’t let him take you from us. We’ll find a way!”

“Even if you find a way to beat the King, you’d have to beat the Witch,” Fareeha said.

“We’ll call in alliances, deeds, favors!”

“Zarya, please,” Hana said, placing a hand on her arm. Zarya was so big, Hana barely came up under her shoulder, but the small girl seemed to calm the massive, muscle bound woman. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I’d like you all to stay,” Fareeha said. She could feel the tears coming; it was all finally hitting home. “Gods, I’m so scared. I don’t want to go.”

Even Zarya deflated against that.

“Anything for a sister,” she mumbled.

Fareeha leaned into Lena, the tears finally coming. Hana joined them, and even Zarya got on the ground to wrap her arms around her. It felt great to be with her friends, but now that everything was finally sinking in, it only added to the dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, that got a *lot* heavier than I wanted it to get. But things will lighten up the next chapter, I swear!


	3. All Hallow's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is All Hallow's Eve.  
> The Witch will come for Fareeha.  
> But the Witch seems strangely shocked to see that the pact is followed, and Fareeha is similarly surprised in turn.

The week had flown by; Fareeha was dead certain that some kind of spell had been put on her to make things go by so faster. When she wasn’t with her friends, she was at her mother’s side. Even the Soldier was with her.

She had to break the lease on her apartment, but the landlord was thankfully flexible given the situation. With her apartment gone, Zarya and the Soldier helped Fareeha moved her belongings to a storage cube, should she ever be free from the Witch’s clutches. Her clothes they brought back to her mother’s house, like she was a little girl still living at home. With both her friends and mother, they ate together, played games, watched movies, done everything they could to try and distract themselves from the inevitable. 

But now, it was over. Now, it was All Hallows’ Eve. They were at the cemetery, waiting for the sun to drop.

Fareeha stood by her mother, wearing a wedding dress. It was her mother’s, her grandmother’s, and was pure white, untouched by the years their family has had it thanks to attentive care. Lace lined everything from the bust to the hem. It had needed only a few alterations to accommodate her fit, muscular figure, such as the bodice and shoulders; after all, she was a soldier, a Shield-Maiden. She wasn’t a soft-bodied woman.

She had complained; Fareeha thought she shouldn’t be wearing a wedding dress when she would be given away, but her mother made her. It would most likely be the only time she would wear the dress, their family heirloom, and it was terribly pretty. Fareeha always wondered who she would wear the dress for. But never in her life did she expect that it would be for the Witch of the Wilds.

“You’re so beautiful,” her mother cried.

“Mother, please.”

“I know, I know, but…but…”

Her mother went back to crying. Fareeha held her close.

They stood just behind King Reinhardt, between the Archer, the Gunslinger, and the Soldier. Her mother was glued to her right arm, while the Soldier held her left. Hana, Lena, and Zarya weren’t far behind.

“You doing alright, kid?” The Soldier asked.

She used to hate being called ‘kid’ by the old man, but suddenly, Fareeha was happy to hear it.

“Would anyone be?”

“No, they wouldn’t,” the man who should’ve been her father said. “But that’s good. It means you’re still alive in there.”

He tapped his chest, where his heart was.

“I got you something, too.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gold pocket watch. Beautiful spiral patters were cut into both sides. Dirt and grime had worn its way into the carvings; not from lack of care, but rather from age. It seemed to be an heirloom as well. But on one side was a fresh set of engravings.

_Illegitimi non carborundum._

“What is it?” Fareeha asked.

“It’s my father’s gold watch, and his father’s before him,” the Soldier said. “I want you to have it.”

“Jack, I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re practically my daughter, and I want you to have this,” he said, passing the watch to her.

“What’s the engraving?”

“It’s mock Latin,” the Soldier said. “No one really knows who came up with it, but it’s supposed to mean ‘don’t let the bastards grind you down.’ You’re going into the mouth of Hell, kid. Don’t let her get an easy win.”

She opened the watch. It tracked the time, date, even the day of the week. The watch face was lovingly painted by hand, with ornate patterns flowing around the edges. The dress didn’t have any pockets, so Fareeha held onto it with her life.

“I won’t.”

“The sun is going down,” King Reinhardt said. He was surrounded by his personal guard, but he spoke to no one.

Sure enough, the sun was dipping below the horizon; the light of the day was ending. Knights and Maidens began lighting torches to ward off the darkness, but they didn’t have to wait long.

Soaring in the skies of the dying light was the Witch of the Wilds, sitting on her broom, trailing her dress and long, golden hair. Her hair was so long, it easily made its way down to her lower back. Seeing the King, she dipped and floated down to the ground.

“My king,” she said with a smile. “Are you ready to end this once and for all?”

“Yes,” Reinhardt said, “we are.”

“And the sun has set,” the Witch said, looking back at the horizon. “Let’s get this party started.”

She raised her hand into the air, as if she was going to summon her army of minions. Fareeha stepped forward.

“I…I’m here,” she said.

“Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m the Alchemist’s daughter.”

“You said that you would stay your wrath if I took the Alchemist’s daughter and gave her to you,” King Reinhardt said. “Here she is.”

Fareeha couldn’t look the Witch in the eyes, not while her mother was two steps behind her, crying.

“What.”

To say there was disbelief in the Witch’s voice was an understatement.

“I’m giving myself to you,” Fareeha said. “For the sake of the realm.”

“You…you’re surrendering yourself to me?” The Witch sputtered.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“You gave us your word, you entered a pact with us,” her king said. “If you take this woman, you will spare us.”

Fareeha hesitantly looked up at the Witch. She was staring at the king with a stupefied, slack-jawed gaze. Her hand was still raised in the air, forgotten.

“You do remember our pact, do you not?” King Reinhardt said.

“Yes, but…you weren’t…I never…you actually…”

“Then please, spare our realm.”

The Witch blinked at least ten times before she could bring herself to do anything.

“Uh, fine. I guess,” she mumbled. The Witch finally took her hand down from the air.

Several Knights and Shield-Maidens heaved a sigh of relief. Even her mother seemed to relax, even though Fareeha knew she was hanging onto the Soldier for dear life.

The Witch waved her hand, and a carpet sprung from thin air, setting itself down in front of Fareeha.

“Take a seat,” the stunned Witch said.

Making sure to not get creases in her dress, Fareeha sat down on the rug, and not a second later, it lifted itself into the air. The Witch sat on her broom, flying up into the air. The rug, and Fareeha, followed her.

“Maidens, at attention,” Lena called out.

As one, the gathered Maidens snapped to attention, saluting Fareeha as the carpet began rising into the air, taking her away with the Witch.

Fareeha looked back. Every Maiden in attendance was saluting her; it was like she was watching her own funeral. The torches were lighting the dark, letting her see the entire gathered assembly as she flew higher and higher.

What would become of her life now? And it seemed so strange; the one person most taken aback by the Witch’s pact was the Witch herself.

Soon they were flying through the darkened sky, and the cemetery faded from view. With the sun gone, the stars began peeking out. The Witch lead the flying carpet, and Fareeha, onward through the darkened, enchanted forest that marked the end of the king’s realm, and the beginning of the Wilds that bore the Witch.

* * *

 

Trees were all that Fareeha could see, when she could see at all. Once they passed from the realm, the night had grown to an impossible blackness. Even with the stars, she could barely see her hand in front of her face. How the Witch could see where she was going, Fareeha had no clue. She didn’t have a lantern, only a small candle that sat at the front of the broom. A candle that never seemed to go out despite the rushing wind. Fareeha shivered, wishing the ride to be done with soon.

The thought had barely crossed her mind when the Witch began to descend towards the earth. Ahead of her, in a massive clearing in the enchanted woods, was a mansion. The closer they got, the bigger it seemed to grow.

It was only four stories tall, but it had to have vaulted ceilings on each level; the mansion was half as big as the king’s own castle. It was made from what seemed to be ancient, gray stones and darkened wood from the heart of the Wilds. Massive windows were evenly spaced along every level.

Torches hung between the windows, casting evil-looking shadows out among the clearing. The rough torchlight illuminated what appeared to be statues between every window at the ground level, making the mansion appear that much more foreboding.

This would be the place where she would spend the rest of her life, Fareeha though. This was her prison.

The Witch dipped towards the ground, and gracefully jumped off her broom. The carpet came down to waist-height at the front of stone steps that lead to a massive pair of thick, heavy doors. They looked more like a drawbridge than outwardly swinging doors. But the Witch didn’t wait for Fareeha; she went right to climbing the stairs, muttering to herself.

“Um, Ms. Witch,” Fareeha said. “Do you…do you want me to…?”

“What? Right, you,” the Witch said. It was almost like she forgot all about Fareeha. “Yes, yes, come in. I give you permission to enter my house.”

Hesitantly, Fareeha got off the carpet. She gathered her wedding dress up so she wouldn’t drag it along the ground, and followed the Witch towards the front doors. Said doors looked like they weighted a ton each, perfect for repelling a siege. But with a flick of the Witch’s wrist, the doors parted as if they weighed nothing more than a feather. They didn’t even creak or groan, but rather opened smoothly and soundlessly.

“Here.”

The Witch roughly took Fareeha’s hand and waved her own hand over it. Fareeha was surprised that the Witch’s hand was so small and smooth. As the Witch passed her hand over hers, a glowing light thrummed on the palm of Fareeha’s hand.

“What is that?”

“A simple spell,” the Witch said. “There will be no locked doors for you here.”

“Why? I thought you’d want me locked up.”

“What do you think I am, a damned slaver?” The Witch laughed. “No, I never want to be associated with those bottom-feeders.”

The Witch stepped into the foyer of her mansion. With a gesture, her broom floated to a coat rack, and she threw her wide-brimmed hat with a careless toss. The hat defied all forms of gravity and physics; it arched, floated upwards, then curved around the massive foyer to nestle itself on a second coat rack.

The inside of the Witch’s mansion was just as big, just as darkly, forebodingly grand as the outside. The ceilings seemed to be even bigger than what Fareeha thought they’d be. The room seemed to be a foyer, with a giant ballroom to her immediate left.

The ballroom seemed to be converted into a massive living room. Tables, massive plush chairs, and what appeared to be a dozen sofas were scattered about, most in a massive half-circle in front of a huge fire place on the other end of the room. The fire itself was easily the size of Fareeha.

Just ahead of her, a wide-set staircase spun upwards, leading to the higher levels. It seemed to be made from the same dark wood that grew in the enchanted forest. Chandeliers floated in the air, made from wrought iron. The candles flickered on, undisturbed by any gusts of air that was let in by the doors. Fareeha stared at the candles; they flickered and burned, but never seemed to drip any wax.

But what struck Fareeha the most was the mess. The Witch didn’t live in squalor, but the mansion was by no stretch clean. There were book shelves that lined the living/ballroom, and they did hold books, but for every book on the shelf, there seemed to be two or three that littered the room. Books were stacked on the tables, chairs, and sofas. There were cloaks, blouses, and bits of odd clothing that hung off the chairs as well. Bits of paper, feathered pens, and ink wells littered every available surface, with only a few spaces cleared off for work.

How could the Witch live in such a state?

“Never thought I’d live this long,” the Witch mumbled as she walked through the mansion. She held up a hand, and a bottle of wine flew through the air. Once it was nestled in her palm, the cork popped off, and the Witch took a long pull straight from the bottle.

“What do you mean, ‘you’d live this long?’” Fareeha asked, following the Witch.

“I thought there would be a big battle,” she said, “the _last_ battle. The last hurrah as we finished this shitty farce. But no, the fucking King just had to find a way to weasel his way out of this crap again.”

Fareeha wasn’t surprised that the Witch was cursing the king, but to hear her curse so blatantly…it was at odds with her graceful appearance.

“But he did what you asked him to! He followed the pact.”

“Ha!” The Witch laughed. “The pact! Yes, yes, he finally did. After years of lying, cheating, and stealing, he finally followed a pact!”

The Witch had walked to the right of the entrance. Fareeha followed her, entering a long kitchen. It seemed to stretch for dozens of meters. Long, thick countertops ran the entire length of the room, with islands every meter or so, and a few thick tables. Like the ballroom/foyer, it was a mess. Pots, pans, plates, and bowels filled a large double sink, and were stacked along the countertop, which was easily a meter deep. Nothing smelled, it was just…it was just a mess.

“You’re not going to cook me, are you?” Fareeha gasped.

“What the fuck? No!” The Witch cried. “Where did you get that idea?!”

“Parents always warn their children to behave, or else the Witch would come and take them away and eat them.”

“Ugh, those superstitious assholes!” The Witch cursed. She took another long pull of the wine, finishing the bottle. Fareeha looked around and saw a pile of empty wine bottles; a few seemed new while others had a thin layer of dust on them. Now that she realized it, the Witch was slurring her words. Was she drunk?

“Then…then what are you going to do with me?” Fareeha asked.

“That damn king, forcing my hand,” the Witch mumbled. “Well, it’s too late to give you back, so I guess you’re spending the night here.”

“What do you mean, ‘give me back?’”

“The woods are treacherous at night, _especially_ tonight, so you’ll have to spend the evening here. Come, let’s get you settled.”

The Witch threw the empty bottle of wine away; it floated towards the pile of other empties, while a new bottle floated towards her hand. Popping the cork, she left the kitchen and began walking to the stairs. Fareeha gathered up her dress and followed her. The Witch summoned her broom, and sat on it as it floated up the stairs towards the second floor. Plush carpets lined the hallway, and they were in need of a good dust beating. There were no billowing clouds of dust when Fareeha walked, but they were obviously dirty.

Eventually the Witch came to a door, one of many in the hallway. Getting off her broom, she pushed it open, and a bedroom welcomed them. The bed had to be at least queen sized, and was fitted with old, crumpled sheets. A pile of linen was stacked on top of one of the two dressers in the room; Fareeha hoped they were clean linen. A dressing table was at one end of the room, a sheet over the mirror.

“Let’s get you out of that dress,” the Witch said.

Fareeha’s heart caught in her throat, and her hand went to her bodice.

“You…you…you want to _take me?_ ” She was a Shield-Maiden, fearless in the face of battle, but the thought of being taken, having her virtue stolen by the Witch of the Wilds sent chills down her spine.

The Witch blanched at that.

“What? N-no! No, nothing like that!” She gasped in horror. “I don’t mean to…to _assault you,_ I just…!! I mean, you’re gorgeous, but no! Your dress! It’s too nice to sleep in! I want to give you something else to wear!”

Fareeha sighed in relief. But at the same time, she was oddly disappointed to hear that. A not-so-small part of her _wanted_ the Witch to throw her onto the bed, tear her clothes off, and greedily explore every nook of her body. Fareeha had never been this close to the Witch before, and she was disarmingly beautiful.

It also didn’t help that she was a sucker for blondes.

“The nerve,” the Witch mumbled. “Please, I just want to make you feel more comfortable. If you’d please…”

The Witch turned around, averting her eyes, giving Fareeha a measure of privacy. She placed the Soldier’s gold watch on the dresser, then slowly began undoing her dress, gently setting it on the bed until she was only wearing her undergarments.

“Can I go through the dresser?” Fareeha asked.

“Yes, you may. Find what fits you.”

Looking through the dresser, Fareeha found a large shirt and, surprisingly, fuzzy pajama bottoms. It was good enough sleepwear for the time.

“Thank you,” she said when she was decent.

“Excellent,” the Witch said, turning around. “Now, for the bed.”

With sweeping gestures, the Witch began enchanting the bed. First Fareeha’s dress was lifted into the air and folded with precise, gentle care, so as not to crease it. A spare sheet floated through the air, tying itself around the dress until it was packaged and set to the side. The old linen on the bed lifted itself off, curled itself up, and threw itself towards a corner of the room. Linen from the pile on the dresser soared through the air, making the bed.

“Those are clean, are they?” Fareeha had to ask.

“Of course.”

“Thank you. It just…it just doesn’t seem like you were expecting me.”

“Look, I have to be honest here,” the Witch sighed, taking another long pull of wine. “I never fucking expected you to be given to me.”

“What do you mean? You gave the king an ultimatum! My life for the protection of the realm.”

“And I never expected him to go through with it,” the Witch said. “I wanted a battle, so I gave him a task that he’d have no choice to try and slip his way out of. He’s done it before, the little shit, I expected him to do it again.”

“The king is a man of honor,” Fareeha said, her pride making her bristle. “He’s a man of his word!”

“And how many times has he tried getting out of a pact with me?” The Witch asked.

That made Fareeha pause.

“A-alright, there might’ve been a couple things that were too much…”

“’A couple?’” The Witch said, her eyebrow arching high.

“A few,” Fareeha said.

The Witch continued to give her a heavily questioning look.

“M-maybe more than a few…”

“Yes. ‘Maybe more than a few,’” she said. “That’s all that anyone tries to do; get out of a pact with the damned Witch of the Wilds. You claim that I always attack your realm, your castle, your king? Maybe you should look at your king and see what he did that resulted in such an action.

“I never wanted you. I gave him an impossible goal, a _soulless_ goal, with the intention that he’d try to get out of it again. But that damned king is good at surprising me, and he found yet another way to give me pause. Ha, how about that? He finally found a way of shocking me: he actually followed through on a damned promise!”

The Witch took another drink.

“So here’s where we are: I don’t want you. I never wanted you. I have no need of you. But I had to take you because that was the pact. So congratulations, you upheld your end of the bargain! You saved the realm! Once the sun rises, you can leave. Go back to your kingdom, your mother.”

Now it was Fareeha’s turn to stare dumbly at the Witch.

“What?”

“You’ve done your duty, so once the sun rises, go home,” the Witch said. “I don’t want you here. Go back to your home, or go to another kingdom, find another liege who wouldn’t trade you away on a whim. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here. Oh, and if you need to use the toilet, take a shower, or anything, there’s an attached bath through that door there.”

With that, the Witch turned on her heel, and walked out the door, leaving Fareeha standing in the empty room.

The Witch didn’t want her? That was insane. The Witch had given the king, the realm, a pact; Fareeha was the one she wanted. Was it because her mother shot her in the heart the last Hallows’ Eve? It had to be.

“This _has_ to be some kind of game,” Fareeha mumbled. It had to be; the Witch was known for it. But now that the shock was wearing off, she realized that she was suffering from an extreme adrenaline let-down, and the bed looked very inviting.

She climbed into the large, shockingly comfortable bed, and decided to wait until the morning to see what the Witch would do with her. Before Fareeha drifted off to sleep, she took the gold watch that the Soldier gave her and held it close. The ticking let her know that she could still fight. She’d never let the bastard grind her down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Excessive overly dramatic drama is done! Back to the regularly scheduled _ordinary_ drama!


	4. The Day After All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha tries to find out what the Witch wants with her, but doesn't get the answer she's expecting. She tries finding it at home, but gets a similar answer.

The sun woke Fareeha from a deep sleep. She tossed and turned; she just needed a few more minutes. But as lazy as she wanted to be, she was a morning person through and through. Once she was up, she was up. And thanks to the sun in her face, she was up.

She pulled herself up and swung her legs out of her bed. She expected the ground to be closer to her, but she dropped even further than she expected. The brief jolt truly woke her up. Then she remembered that she wasn’t in her bed, or even in her apartment; rather, she was in the mansion of the Witch of the Wilds.

Her breath caught in her throat. It had only been a night since the Witch took her, but it already felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe she was more tired than she thought; it felt like she had slept for an entire year. Then again, it made sense; adrenaline crashes tended to make one sleep like they’re dead. There were plenty of post-battles crashes that made it feel like she had slept most of her life away.

 Fareeha took the Soldier’s gold watch, opening it to check the time. She had slept in until nearly eight-thirty. She wondered if the Witch would be awake by now. Then she remembered all the wine that the Witch had drunk; she still might be passed out.

She flopped back down on the bed. What was there to do? Surely the Witch would be coming for her soon, to do whatever she wanted to her. She didn’t want to think of that just right now. Putting a pillow over her head to block out the sun, she tried to sleep more, but only did more tossing and turning. At nine o’clock, she gave up. She was still a Shield- Maiden; she wanted to move.

There was plenty of room in the bedroom for a decent workout, so she went through simple calisthenics. Push-ups led to sit-ups led to leg lifts led to planks led to squats, then she started the set again. That lasted nearly an hour, and still there was no Witch.

“Guess I have to find her,” she sighed. “Better make sure I don’t smell.”

Just as the Witch said, there was an attached bathroom. There was a toilet, as well as both a shower stall and a bathtub. The fixtures were all antiquated, but aside from a thin layer of dust, everything was clean, thank the new gods. Fareeha turned the knob in the shower, and warm, clean water shot out.

“Maybe this place isn’t so bad,” she said, pulling off her borrowed sleepwear.

With her shower done, she went to the dresser. Inside, she found several pairs of britches and shirts. She had to try out a few pairs, and eventually found a set that fit decently well. Wearing tan britches and a blue shirt, she slipped the gold watch into her pocket and went to the door. Fareeha expected to be locked in the room, but the handle effortlessly turned, and let her into the hallway.

As she turned the handle, her palm glowed a little. Fareeha yelped and pulled her hand back, but nothing had happened. There was no stinging pain, no burning, nothing. Her hand only seemed to glow when she turned the handle.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Witch last night.

_There will be no locked doors for you here._

Did the Witch give her the ability to open any door in the mansion?

There were several doors along the long hallway. Fareeha went to one, and turned the handle. Again, her palm seemed to minutely glow, but the handle turned effortlessly, revealing yet another bedroom. Like the one she stayed in, it was a mess, stacked with linen and miscellaneous clothes.

Fareeha spent several minutes walking down the hallway, testing each door. Like the first two, her palm would glow, and the door would open, all revealing bedrooms in various levels of messes.

But there was no monster hiding in the rooms, no bubbling cauldrons, no shrieking ghouls, nothing that would suggest that a witch lived here, let alone the Witch of the Wilds.

“This is anti-climactic,” she mumbled.

Turning back, she made her way to the staircase. Overlooking the ballroom/living room in the daylight only highlighted the mess the Witch had let the room fall into. Yet there was no Witch.

“How can she get anything done?”

At the base of the stairs, she turned towards the kitchen. Now that it was the morning, she could see that the kitchen was actually full of windows, flooding the entire room with natural light. It was a beautiful room, if only it wasn’t for the plethora of dirty dishes. Sitting at one of the many tables in the kitchen was the Witch.

The Witch was surrounded by books. One floated in the air, a page flipping with a simple gesture. The Witch sat in a massive, high-backed chair, eating a simple meal of eggs and oatmeal, with a massive cup of red wine next to the plate.

She wasn’t, disappointingly, wearing her scandalous dress, but rather what looked like sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, both mismatching. Her long, down-to-her-hips golden hair was disheveled, but it only added to the unintentional ‘hot mess’ look.

“Hello?” Fareeha said.

The Witch jumped, looking up from her book and staring in disbelief.

“You’re still here?!” She demanded.

“Of course I’m still here, you took me away, remember?”

“And I told you that you could leave in the morning!” The Witch said, getting up and storming over to her. “Remember that? Go back home, go to another kingdom, I don’t care where the fuck you go, but you can’t stay here.”

Now that it was the morning, she was well-rested, and she wasn't trembling over being taken by the Witch, Fareeha finally realized that the Witch was a few inches shorter than her. Fareeha never expected the Witch to literally look up to her, or to actually be scared by someone smaller than herself. But if there was a person to be scared of, it was the Witch of the Wilds.

“That has to be a mistake.”

“It isn’t a mistake! I don’t want you; I _never_ wanted you!” The Witch said. “This whole cluster fuck thing was some off-hand joke your shitty king didn’t pick up on. You got your town a stay of execution for a year, now get out of here!”

The Witch gestured, and her broom flew into the room. It turned in midair, and began lightly swatting at Fareeha, pushing her towards the front doors as if she was a speck of dirt.

“What do you mean?”

“It means get lost! How many damned times must I say it? Go! Get!”

The broom kept lightly swatting at her rear, pushing Fareeha along.

“What shall I tell the king?”

“Tell him congratulations, he finally beat the Witch of the Wilds. Tell him you talked your way out of this, tell him you escaped, I don’t care what the fuck you say, just go!”

“Are you drinking?”

“It’s sangria! Get!”

Soon Fareeha was pushed out the front doors, into the brilliant fall sunlight. As soon as she was passed the threshold, the doors began to close. This had to be some trick, something to let her guard down. It couldn’t be this easy to escape the dreaded Witch of the Wilds!

“Wait.”

That was what Fareeha was waiting for. The Witch was finally telling her what to do.

“Your dress, you can’t forget that,” the Witch said. From the second floor, her bundled dress floated down towards her. “And you need directions. The woods are better in the daylight, but they’re still treacherous.”

From a stack of paper and pens, a sheet of vellum floated towards Fareeha, along with two feathered fountain pens. As the Witch spoke, one pen drew a map while the other dictated her.

“Take this path into the woods,” she said. “It will go for a mile or so, then you’ll hit a fork in the road. Take the left fork until it gets to a brook. Take a right and follow the brook south. Eventually you’ll come to a road, and a bridge that crosses the brook. Turn left onto the road, taking the bridge that crosses the brook. It will take you to a thicket. It’ll be a little difficult, but push through the thicket; it will take you to a cobblestone road.

“This is the most important part. _Stay on the road_. The road is big and wide, but it’ll have dozens of smaller pathways leading off of it. You must stay on the road. It doesn’t matter what you hear, whom you hear, what you smell or see, you must stay on the road. If you don’t…well, you don’t need to know what would happen to you. Just stay on the road.

“The road will run for a few miles, but it will take you to the head of a glen. It’s a bit steep with lots of rocks, but follow the glen until it takes you to a clearing. Once you’re in the clearing, the village is on the other end of it. It should be familiar from there.”

The Witch handed the sheet of vellum to Fareeha. The map was incredibly detailed even though the pen was scratching like mad to get it all down. The pen that was dictating the Witch took a few extra seconds to write in big, bold, letters ‘STAY ON THE ROAD!’ where the dangerous road was.

“Got it?”

“I think I do,” Fareeha said.

“Great. Have a nice life, I’ll most likely see you next Hallows’ Eve when we do the same old goddamn song-and-dance again.”

With that, the doors to the Witch’s mansion slammed closed, inches from her face. Fareeha stared at the massive doors, more than a little stunned. This all seemed like some far-flung dream. She never even got a chance to thank the Witch for the hospitality.

“Excuse me? Ms. Witch?” She said, politely knocking at the door. Her knock never made it through the door; the wood was so thick, it was like punching rocks.

“Well, she told me to go home,” Fareeha mumbled. “Guess I’ll go home.”

She turned around and began taking the path from the mansion towards the woods. Now that it was light, she could see how big the mansion’s lawn was. There had to be enough open lawn to make a football pitch with room to spare. Grass wildly grew, covering small rolling knolls that made the path seem like a twisting and turning serpent.

But looking at the mansion itself made her blood run cold. In the light, she could see the stone figures lined outside the mansion; only they weren’t stone statues, they were metal golems, Omnic robots frozen in place.

The great Omnic Crisis happened when Fareeha was but a girl, but she knew the terrors all too well. The metal monstrosities were brought to life by an overambitious cadre of doctors, including the soon-to-be-mad Doctor Junkenstein. The creatures, given life by the Witch of the Wilds, had rebelled against their masters, and nearly destroyed the world.

It was only the combined efforts of all of the kingdoms that they were stopped and utterly destroyed, but other kingdoms had fallen, including Zarya’s birth kingdom. Fortunately, King Reinhardt had taken in a great wave of refugees. All of the Omnics were hunted down, put down with bolt and blade; Fareeha was sure that they were all were destroyed.

Yet here they stood. Or at least, some remnants of the Omnics. There were easily forty Nulltroopers, the most basic bipedal Omnic unit, with nearly the same number of tiny two-legged Slicers. But there had to be dozens of massive Eradicators, Bastion units, and even OR14s. Although small in number, it was a full army that was standing guard over the mansion.

The Omnics stood, rooted in one place. Weeds and grass were growing on their metal bodies, silent in their strange vigil. Were they even alive? Did it even matter? Just looking at them made Fareeha’s skin crawl.

“Might as well get a move on.”

Making sure her dress was safe in the package and the Soldier’s watch was in her pocket, Fareeha began following the path. It was light gravel, enough to distinguish it from the lawn, but not enough to be a true road. Fortunately, there weren’t enough leaves on the road to hide it from sight. Eventually, it led into the enchanted woods, and she consulted the Witch’s directions.

Satisfied that she was still on the right path, Fareeha took the chance to take in the woods.  The weather was good. A little on the cool side, but it wasn’t unbearably cold yet. The trees had shed most of their leaves, but there were still a wonderful amount of dark orange and red left on the trees. The air was extremely crisp and clean, smelling deep of the wilds. The smells, the sounds of the woodland creatures, it all made Fareeha extremely relaxed. She even saw several herds of deer. It was perfect.

Eventually she came upon a fork in the road. Following the directions, she took the left fork, which led to a babbling brook. The water seemed so crisp and clear, she had to take a drink from it. It was the coolest, freshest water she ever had in her life. It only made Fareeha more relaxed. Things would be alright. No, things would be better than alright. She was free of the Witch; things would be great!

The brook led her to a bridge, which she crossed.  That led to a thicket. Like the woods, it was mostly barren of greenery, but the branches were still needle thin and sharp. Just as the Witch said, it was difficult to get through. The thorns poked at Fareeha, but they never drew blood. More than a few caught her clothes and the linen that held her dress, but she was able to push on.

Once through the thicket, she took a chance to examine her packaged dress. The linen wrapping it was prickled, but the dress itself was safe. She let out a sigh of relief, then turned around.

Something wasn’t right.

Fareeha stood on a proper road. Cobblestones were set into the ground, wide enough for a parade. Leaves were scattered on it in a picturesque manner. It was perfectly normal, but some inner voice was screaming at her, telling her this wasn’t normal. As a soldier, she knew when to listen to that little voice inside of her; it had saved her life before.

But there wasn’t anything she could do. She had to continue down the road. The Witch told her to go home, to not come back. But every fiber of her being was telling her to run away from this cursed road.

Fareeha suddenly realized that it was dead quiet.

There were no birds, no rustling of grass, no creatures making noise, no insects, nothing. There wasn’t even a breeze. She could hear a pin drop. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She looked back at the directions.

_Stay on the road!_

Just as the Witch said, there were dozens of smaller dirt pathways leading off the road. All she had to do was follow the big, long, road.

“Stay on the road? I can do that.”

She started walking down the road. The pure silence was more than eerie; it was _wrong_. But there were no monsters. Nothing jumped out at her. The sun still shined bright, the wind still blew, there was just no noise. But once she made it through this, she was home free.

She could almost hear her triumphant welcome home. She could hear the trumpeters blowing their horns to herald her return. She could hear her mother cry out in joy.

“Fareeha! Oh, my precious daughter, you’ve come back! Oh, thank Allah and the Old Gods for this day!”

She could see the Soldier’s grizzled face breaking out in a smile. She could feel his rough hand on her shoulder as he brought her in for a hug.

“Welcome back, kid. It might’ve only been a day, but we missed you.”

She could see Zarya looming over her, ready to scoop her up in a back-breaking embrace.

“Our sister has returned! We’ll feast for an entire week to celebrate!”

She could see Hana and Lena rushing towards her, tackling her at the same time.

“Dammit, luv, don’t you ever scare us like that again!” Lena said.

“Now you can go back to being my mentor,” Hana gushed. “I can’t wait!”

She could hear, and feel, the king’s massive voice shaking her as he spoke.

“I knew it was right to trust you! I knew you’d find your way back! Come, a parade in your honor, a national day of celebration. You are a hero returning to us!”

The vellum directions nearly blew from her hand. There was no wind, but it pulled itself from her grip and hit her in the face, almost as if it was trying to tell her something.

Coughing and sputtering, Fareeha pulled the page off her face. The Witch’s largest warning was staring at her dead in the eyes: STAY ON THE ROAD!

“I am on the road!” Fareeha yelled. “I’ve not taken a step off! I’m on the damn--!”

She wasn’t on the road.

Somewhere, she had stepped off.

Fear and adrenaline cut through Fareeha. She had taken two steps off the road, and onto some side path. She leapt back onto the cobblestones, her heart beating a wild tattoo in her chest, and a nameless fear pounding through her veins. Her heart was slamming against her ribs like she had ran a dead sprint, or dodged a killing blow. She was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, her hands shaking.

She spun around, looking for a threat, looking for a monster to break from its hiding spot to snatch her up. But nothing came. The forest was as silent as it ever was. It seemed to eat sound itself; her gasping never echoed, not even once.

“This place is cursed,” she mumbled, clutching her packaged dress and the directions even tighter. “I have to get out of here.”

Keeping her eyes glued to the cobblestones, she walked on, faster and faster. She noticed that reddish-brown cobblestones lined the center of the road; she kept her eyes focused on that. But every so often, she would blink, and realize she had strayed wildly from the center of the road, towards one of the many dirt paths. It was like the road itself was trying to lead her astray.

Nearly running now, she alternated between staring at the cobblestones and looking just ahead of her, just to make sure she was staying on the road. She had to get out of this cursed place, and she had to do it now!

Fareeha had to be running nearly a few miles, swerving all over the road like a drunk, but then the road ended with a glen. The ground sloped downwards, with steep earthen hills that fed a small creek, but it was a glen, and not the damned road. Fareeha leapt from the road and into the glen, taking a second to catch her breath.

The second she was off the cobblestones, the strange wrongness of the road vanished. She heard sounds of nature again; the wind was blowing, birds were chirping, and leaves were rustling. Even her pounding heart slowed down, and she could feel her shoulders unknotting like she was letting go of some tight held stress.

Things were normal, right again. Fareeha re-read the directions before pushing on.

The glen was rocky, but didn’t run for very long. It ended in a clearing. Fareeha looked up from the vellum map; it was a clearing that she and her mother had played in when she was a girl. It was a clearing on the outskirts of the town.

The Witch had gotten her back home.

“Thank Allah,” she gasped. Her heart had calmed down, but she was still filled with stress and terror from the cobblestone road as she jogged into the village. But the closer she got, the better she felt.

She broke from the clearing, stepping onto the streets of the realm. Life was continuing as per normal. Men and woman walked about, carrying or pushing heavy objects on floating sleds. Blacksmiths hammered away at their anvils. Gunsmiths worked alongside them, either forging barrels for rifles or making bullets. She even saw the Viking working on an automated sentry turret.

“Fareeha?!”

She turned around, just in time to see a brown-haired blur launch itself at her.

“Oh, Fareeha, it is you! Bloody hell!” Lena yelled.

“Ooof! Lena, I’m fine! Stop trying to kill me.”

“You daft? We thought you were gone forever! Things have been going at sixes and sevens ‘round here! Your mum’s been cryin’ up a river, the Soldier ain’t much better, and the king is trying to drink himself into the grave!”

“Lena, please, let Fareeha breathe.”

“Thanks, Emily,” Fareeha said to Lena’s girlfriend. The little Brit was squeezing her so hard, it was actually getting hard to breathe.

Relenting, Lena let her go. She was always a ball of energy, but seeing Fareeha made Lena nearly shake with joy.

“How did ya get away?” She pressed. “Was it some kinda mad escape? Didja have to dodge any of those creepy ghoul thingies Junkenstein throws ‘bout? How long did it take you to run? What happened--?”

“Lena, please, give her a minute,” Emily laughed, putting an arm around her girlfriend. “She’s probably overwhelmed.”

“It’s…yes, it’s just too much,” Fareeha said. The cobblestone road still made her shake.

“And where didja get the new digs?” Lena asked.

“The Witch actually gave them to me,” she said. “She didn’t want my dress to be ruined.”

“That’s…actually kinda nice of her.”

Fareeha realized that a crowd was gathering around her.

“It’s her! The Shield-Maiden!”

“The Alchemist’s daughter!”

“She escaped the Witch of the Wilds!”

“We better get you to your mother,” Emily said. “Gotta let her know you’re back.”

“Yes, I really need to see her.”

The crowd was cheering her return as they walked through the village. Eventually, they came to the Alchemist’s house, her old house. Pipes and vapor hoods extended through the roof so they could safely work on different chemical compounds, but there were no clouds of potentially toxic runoff today; her mother was still probably in mourning.

Fareeha knocked on the door. Minutes later, her mother answered it.

“Fareeha?” She gasped. Just as Lena had said, her mother’s eye was red from crying. “I-is that you? This isn’t some trick of the Witch, is it?”

“It’s me, mother. I’m home.”

Fareeha wrapped her mother in a tight hug.

“Jack! She’s back! Our daughter is back!” Her mother cried. After the ordeal of passing the cobblestone road, she hugged her back with just as much ferocity as Lena did.

The Soldier ran out, coming to a dead stop as he stared at her.

“This can’t be happening,” he gasped.

“It is!” Her mother sobbed. “Oh, it is!”

Fareeha could feel the tears coming. She was home.

The Soldier gave her his own hug, and Fareeha could hear Lena crying behind her. She knew she’d be buried deep in a hug with Emily without having to look.

“How did you get away?” Her mother asked. “How did you escape?”

“She just let me go. She said she never actually wanted me. Oh, and before I forget.” Fareeha broke the hug to hand over the folded dress. “I believe this is yours.”

“Damn the dress, I just wanted my daughter back!”

There were gasps from the crowd behind her. Fareeha craned her neck, just in time to see King Reinhardt push his way through the crowd, his guard a step behind him.

“I don’t believe it,” the king gasped.

“My lord, it’s true,” she said. Fareeha never wanted to let her mother or the Soldier go, but she had to kneel for the king. “The Witch told me to return home. She didn’t want me.”

“She escaped, she did!” Lena said. “Ran right out from under the Witch’s nose!”

“Lena, don’t say that,” Emily said. “You’ll start a rumour.”

“I didn’t,” Fareeha said. “The Witch never wanted me. She told me to go home.”

The king traded a look with the Soldier. It was a dark look, one that Fareeha knew well.

“I still don’t believe it,” the king said.

“It _is_ a bit too much,” the Soldier agreed.

“Jack! How could you say that?” Her mother gasped.

“The Witch of the Wilds isn’t known for ‘just letting things go,’” the Soldier said. “There’s always a hook, always a catch. Always an angle that favors her.”

“Can’t you just be happy that our daughter has returned to us?” The Alchemist demanded. “Fareeha, did the Witch say you could go home?”

“She did,” Fareeha admitted, “but Jack is right, the Witch never just lets someone go scot free. I still find it hard to believe.”

“This _must_ be a test,” the king said, stroking his beard. “Did the Witch give you an ordeal to pass?”

Fareeha couldn’t help but think of the cobblestone road. If that wasn’t a test of some kind, she didn’t know what was.

“Yes, she did,” she said. “Returning to the realm was…it was hard. Trying. It was damn scary.”

“Maybe she wanted Fareeha to fail this test,” Jack thought aloud.

“She would have to try harder than that!” Fareeha said.

“Ah, there’s the famous Shield-Maiden spirit,” the king laughed. “Never backing down from a challenge!”

“You can’t go back to her, Fareeha,” her mother said. She was still holding onto her.

“Then how else would the Witch know Fareeha passed her test?” Reinhardt said. “She should go back, rub it in the Witch’s face, tell her she would have to try harder than that.”

“But the Witch really sounded like she wanted to be rid of me.”

“She’s a devious woman; trickery is second nature to her. Telling you to leave had to be the first part of the test. Do you remember how the Shield-Maidens recruited you?”

“How could I forget? I had to stay outside of their headquarters for three days in the winter.”

“And how many times did they tell you that they didn’t need you?” Jack said. “How many times did they spit at you, curse you, tell you that you were too skinny, too fat, too lazy, too ungainly?”

Fareeha always thought that step of the process was a dirty trick, yelling and belittling her for three days, making her stand in one place for the entire stretch of the damned night, then promising her rewards, a position in the king’s personal guard, or just a warm coat and hot soup, anything as long as she just left her place and fail the test. But it was the first step to becoming an elite Shield-Maiden, a sworn sword to the king.

She should never have left the Witch’s mansion. She might’ve already failed whatever test the Witch was thinking up.

“Ya mean she’s gotta go back?” Lena gasped.

“This _must_ be part of the Witch’s plan,” the king said.

“How do we even know what the Witch wants?” Emily demanded.

“I’m not letting my daughter go again,” her mother spat. “I should never have given her up in the first place!”

“Mother, if the Witch wants to test me, I have to prove her wrong,” Fareeha said. “I don’t want to go back, but I do know what’s at stake: the fate of the very realm. I have to prove her wrong.”

Her mother’s grip on her tightened. But Fareeha knew her mother.

“T-then you have to go back,” she ultimately relented.

“Yes, you must,” the king said. “As the king of the realm, I order you to return to the Witch, and pass any other tests she might place before you.”

“As you order, my king.”

“Can’t you stay a little?” Her mother asked.

Fareeha reached into her pocket, taking out the Soldier’s gold watch.

“Glad to see you’re getting some use out of it,” he smiled.

“I’m glad you gave it to me,” she smiled back. “I won’t let the bastard grind me down.”

It was just passed noon. Traveling through the enchanted woods had taken about two hours. There was plenty of time for Fareeha to travel back.

“I can stay a little, mother. But I have to leave before the sun sets.”

“Any time you spend is a blessing.”

 

* * *

 

 Fareeha took a deep breath. She stared out passed the clearing, where the glen was. Where the cobblestone road was.

“This is a test,” she mumbled. “The king said it was. It has to be true. He ordered me back; as his Shield-Maiden, I have to obey.”

If she told herself that enough times, maybe it would ward against the fear. Every single shred of her being wanted to run back, to avoid the cobblestone road. But she had to move on; she was ordered to.

She adjusted her pack. Her mother refused to let her out of the house if she didn’t take more clothes with her, more keepsakes. She didn’t have enough room for weapons, but even if she could take them, she didn’t want the Witch to take her return the wrong way and invoke her fury.

Her mother gave her several cookies wrapped in a kerchief. She nibbled at one, just to feel a little better. Then she looked at the Witch’s vellum map, and headed back.

She crossed the clearing easily, and made her way up the glen. The rocks were indeed big, but she didn’t worry about springing an ankle; she was used to worse terrain. She stopped as the cobblestone road began.

Fareeha’s hands were shaking.

“This is a test,” she mumbled. “This is just a test, and I will pass it.”

Fighting against the nameless fear the cobblestone road oozed, she put one foot on the road, then the next. Her heart was pounding away in her chest. As she started walking, the sounds of the forest faded away. Soon all she could hear was the dead, unnatural silence of the road. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong!

“Just have to keep moving,” she told herself. “Look at the ground, look at the direction, this will be done soon.”

She was back to jogging along the cobblestone road. Dammit, she should’ve told Lena how she always felt about her. She was her friend, one of her oldest friends even before they joined the Shield-Maidens together; she didn’t want to ruin anything by telling Lena that she had a slight crush on her.

“But I’ve felt the same way,” Lena said. “I just didn’t want to rush you, love.”

“We’ve _both_ felt the same way,” her girlfriend Emily smiled. “You’re on both our ‘free pass’ lists. I mean, have you looked in a mirror?”

“A bloody gorgeous cracking fit bird you are,” Lena said.

“In fact, why don’t we all fix this little oversight right now?” Emily said in a husky voice, leaning forwards.

The map jerked itself out from her hands, hitting her in the face and snapping her out whatever trance fell on her; she had stepped off the road again. Cursing, Fareeha ran back onto the road; even though the air was still, the vellum map was shaking about like the wind was blowing, trying to catch her attention.

“Just listen to the map,” she said, looking at the vellum page. “It wants you on the road.”

“Just stop, Fareeha,” the Soldier said. “You know how much you mean to me, how much your mother means to me. We might not have made things official, but I still feel I owe you father-daughter bonding time. Come on, let’s go to the range, blow off some steam.”

The map was flapping again. This time, she was still on the road when she caught herself.

She hummed to herself to distract her from whatever auditory hallucinations the road threw at her, tried to focus on the terror to wash this damned thing out of her mind. Then she started smelling her mother’s home baked cookies, leading her to one of the many dirt paths leading into the woods.

“Stay on the road, stay on the road,” she hummed to herself. The map flapped, telling her she was veering off-course.

Fareeha ran faster, weaving about like she had too much to drink. She practically dove through the thicket when she got to it. This time, it did draw blood. But she was off the damn cobblestone road; the relief was palpable. She crawled through the thicket, taking off her pack so she could lay on the ground and catch her breath.

“Made it, I made it,” she laughed, looking at the skies. Now that she was off the cobblestone road, the fear and terror bleeding away. She could hear the sounds of nature; things became right again. Her heart was still beating a wild tattoo in her chest, but she had made it!

“Done with the damned road. The rest is easy.”

She got up and grabbed her pack. Followed the directions backwards, taking the road to the bridge that ran over the brook. Fareeha took a minute to drink some of the refreshing water to help calm her down. She checked her watch; it was getting close to six, and the sun was starting to set.

The brook led to a road, which led to a fork. She took a right on the fork, and soon came to the Witch’s mansion. Fareeha stopped, rooted in place. The mansion was there, and along with mansion were the dozens and dozens of Omnic robots. But the Omnics were still rooted in place as well, none of the moving, each holding the same pose they held when Fareeha first left the mansion. They were little more than statues, posing no threat to the birds and the squirrels, let alone Fareeha.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” she laughed, running to the massive front doors.

She pounded on the doors, but barely made a sound. The doors had to be a foot thick, easily. She pounded again, but made even less sound. The sun was fully setting, casting long shadows across the lawn. Fareeha didn’t want to be caught outside the mansion when the sun set; something about the massive building seemed safe, even when it was owned by the Witch of the Wilds.

“No locked doors for me, right?”

There was a massive wrought iron knocker hanging from the door. She grabbed it, her palm glowed, and Fareeha began pushing. It took barely any pressure at all; the door swung open by itself, welcoming her back to the mansion.

The Witch was lounging on a sofa in the ballroom with another bottle of wine, the massive fireplace warming the entire room. She jumped when the outside breeze rolled in.

“What the crap are you doing back here?!” The Witch yelled.

“This is a test, isn’t it?” Fareeha smiled. “You wanted to put me through my paces.”

“I wanted you out of my damn mansion, that’s what,” the Witch yelled back, getting to her feet. She took a second to kill the bottle, then threw it away. The bottle magically landed softly on a table, just as she marched up to Fareeha.

Fareeha always found it hard to take someone seriously when they had to look up to her, with the exception of course being her mother. But as the slightly smaller Witch marched up to her, she had to fight the urge to back away and bow to whatever the Witch demanded of her. 

She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry.

“T-too bad,” Fareeha said. “You took me, you have to keep me. My king ordered it so.”

“Oh, damn the king and his promises!” The Witch grumbled, pulling at her extremely long hair. “Didn’t you want to go back home? See your mother, your boyfriend?”

“I did see my mother, but I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not like that.”

“Well, good for you, but you need to get out of my hair.”

“The king asked for my obedience, and I gave it to him. He ordered me to stay with you, so I shall.”

“Ugh, fucking Shield-Maidens. Still so goddamned honor bound after all this time. You’re the worst,” the Witch groaned. “Wait. You said you went back to your mother?”

“I did.”

“And you came back?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That means you crossed the cobblestone road _twice_ in one day?”

Just hearing ‘cobblestone’ made Fareeha shiver.

“I did.”

“Shit, you need a drink.”

“I’d love one.”


	5. The Day After All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha never thought she'd be drinking with the Witch of the Wilds. But life is full of these strange surprises.

Fareeha followed the Witch from the messy ballroom to the messy kitchen, the setting sun casting the room in a deep orange. It was like she never cleaned up after herself.

“The dishes must stand up by themselves,” Fareeha said.

“Piss off, this is my mansion,” the Witch said. Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh; it was easy to get under the Witch’s skin. She like seeing her flush. And the way she cursed…it was so classy, yet brutish.

Walking to a massive wooden cabinet, the Witch opened it up. Shelf and shelf of dusty wine bottles greeted her. She flicked her wrist, and the wooden shelves spun about like they were mounted on a giant wheel that led somewhere underground. There seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of wine.

“What’s your poison? Red, white, chardonnay, malbec, pinot grigio, zinfandel, muscato…?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

The Witch pulled two bottles of red wine from the shelf. She blew some dust off them and handed one to Fareeha.

“A bottle each?”

“I don’t like to leave things half-finished,” the Witch winked, walking back to the ballroom/living room.

Fareeha was about to ask for a glass when the corks for both bottles popped off by themselves.

“To safe passage,” the Witch said, raising her bottle.

“Here, here,” Fareeha said, clinking the bottles together.

Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Following the Witch’s example, Fareeha drank straight from the bottle. The wine was dark, strong, dry, but savory. It was an excellent vintage.

“Like it?” The Witch asked as they made their way to the ballroom.

“I do. Thank you.”

Her manners seemed to catch the Witch off-guard.

“You’re welcome.”

It was like she wasn’t used to being thanked.

“So, what the hell was with the cobblestone road?” Fareeha asked, sitting in one of the many sofas that littered the ballroom. The Witch sat in a sofa next to her, putting a bookmark in the book she was reading.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I _do_ want to know. I had to walk the damn thing twice!”

“No, you don’t,” the Witch said with finality. “And I’m not going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Have you heard the poem ‘Don’t Go Out Alone?’”

“Can’t say that I have.”

The Witch smiled, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“I figured. It was a very popular poem when I was but a girl. This is just part of it.”

Fareeha was about to ask the Witch just how old she was when the Witch began.

 

_Certain lines can’t be uncrossed,_

_Certain maps will get you lost,_

_Once you’re past the boarder, then you’ll have to play the game._

_Roll the dice but count the cards,_

_Break the glass but keep the shards._

_The world is out of order. It’s been broken since you came._

_The broken doors are hidden in the blood and in the bone._

_My darling child, be careful now…and don’t go out alone._

 

Fareeha’s skin turned to gooseflesh; she couldn’t help but shake. The poem the Witch recited chilled her to the very core. It was like she was on the cobblestone road again; something deep inside of her was telling her this was wrong, this was bad, that she needed to get someplace safe, now!

“You like it?” The Witch laughed, drinking her wine.

“What the hell kind of poems did you have when you were a girl?” Fareeha demanded.

“The best kind. The kind that told stories, the kind that gave warnings. Humanity has come far since I was young, and many of you have forgotten that there are things that go ‘bump’ in the night. You think your electricity will turn night into day, that your guns will keep you safe from the things with claws and teeth, and that your books will tell you what there is with the world.”

The Witch leaned forward. Fareeha moved back, pushing herself deeper into the sofa. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, but she wasn’t sure from what: her proximity to the alluring Witch, her aggressive toothy smile, or the sudden cold terror that took root in her stomach.

“The night is dark and full of terror. More so than you could ever know,” the Witch continued, wolfishly smiling. “There are beasts that you can’t possibly fathom, and there are things that, if you were to know them, would turn your hair white, back to its full color, and then back to white again.

“My parents knew the danger of the woods; we all did. We knew better than to go out into them, and we used poems like these to tell the children to fear and respect the wilds. Not like now, where you blindly push against the unknown.

“I’m not telling you what made the cobblestone road. If you did, you would be opening your eyes. If you did, you’d see what made the cobblestone road. And you would have to play it’s game. And the stakes for playing are higher than you could possibly imagine.”

“’Once you’re past the boarder, then you’ll have to play the game,’” Fareeha mumbled, the line from the poem floating to her lips before she knew what she was saying.

“Exactly,” the Witch said. “Ignorance is bliss; it keeps your eyes closed, it keeps you playing _your_ game, not the game of the thing that made the road. Do you understand now?”

Her hands shaking, Fareeha took a long pull of wine; now she was glad the Witch gave her the entire bottle. She was terrified, but at the same time, she wanted to see the Witch grin like that again.

“From the looks of it, you _do_ understand,” the Witch laughed, leaning back.

“Then…then do you know what made the road?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you’re playing the thing’s game?”

“I am,” the Witch smiled.

“How are you…Why are you…?”

“Still here? Because it takes a monster to play a monster’s game. And I play it well.”

The Witch had that wolfish smile on her face again. Fareeha got her wish, but she was suddenly seeing her as the Witch of the Wilds, not some beautiful, disgruntled drunk living in the woods. Her fear in the Witch was renewed. She unconsciously re-crossed her legs as she settled deeper into the sofa.

“Still want to be here? You can go home any time you’d like. There are no doors that will keep you here.”

“M-my king ordered me here,” Fareeha stammered.

“Such a commitment to duty; some damn things never change. Why can’t you Maidens make a commitment to yourself for once?”

“It’s _because_ I’m a Shield-Maiden. The needs of the realm, the needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few.”

“Ugh, so goody, so pure.” The Witch groaned, taking a long pull of wine. “Just like how they were back in my day; it’s making me sick. If you’re going to stay here, I’ll have to do something about that.”

“You want to change me?”

“I want to challenge you. Life is a struggle, and that struggle changes people. What better way to grow that to struggle against something?”

Fareeha couldn’t imagine herself changing.

“You want to _break_ me?”

“No, I said want to _challenge_ you, and see how you grow,” the Witch corrected her. “Nothing is better than seeing something change. Take it from me.”

“Taking the word of a monster? That’s rich.”

“It’s what I do.”

That got Fareeha thinking.

“’What you do?’ What exactly is it that you do?” She asked. “In all the stories that I’ve heard of you, you’re the antagonist. You’re the one who the hero struggles against. Is that all you do? Or do you play the game of that monster that made the cobblestone road? Do you challenge him?”

“Ah, so there _is_ a mind behind that beautiful face,” the Witch smiled. “Question everything, my dear houseguest. There’s no better way to know the world than by pushing against something.”

“First you tell me to be scared of things I don’t know, now you want me to push against it?”

“You need to be cautious. Remember, the poem is called _Don’t Go Out Alone_ , not  _Lock Yourself In and Never Go Out_. You must be cautious in your exploration. If you’re not careful, you’ll just burn yourself. Granted, pain is an excellent teacher, but the trick is to find the balance between inquisitiveness and caution.”

If the Witch kept talking in riddles, Fareeha would start tearing her hair out.

“I’m here as a guardian, of sorts,” she said. “Keeping things not of this world out, and keeping things of this world in. Are you familiar with yin and yang?”

“A little. One of my friend’s girlfriend is Chinese; she taught me a few things.”

“Such a multi-cultural kingdom. My position isn’t supposed to be evil, or allow evil to flourish. It isn’t even to let good prosper. There is a balance, and I have to keep that balance. Too much of something is a vice, too little is a deficiency. There is the middle path of virtue that must be taken to ensure proper harmony.”

“Then where do your pacts come in?”

“To gain something, something must be given up,” the Witch said. “Give to one end, take from the other. Balance is maintained.”

“Then how do you justify Dr. Junkenstein’s monster?” Fareeha pressed. “You helped him bring the dead back to life! I’ve even seen you resurrect the Reaper many times during the raids. How is balance maintained when you can bring the dead to life?”

The Witch’s face grew hard. It gave Fareeha pause.

“Balance is _always_ maintained,” the Witch said. “When you cross into death, one does not simply ‘walk out.’ There must be a sacrifice, a price to be paid. The Reaper has already paid the toll, and has paid for it dearly enough. As for Junkenstein’s monster, he had his own price he paid. Dr. Junkenstein has his own way of helping to pay down that debt, yes, but one way or another, the Hangman always gets his dues.”

“’The Hangman?’”

“The Grim Reaper. Death. The Great Equalizer. No matter your stature, no matter your name, you wealth, or your rank, we’re all equal in the eyes of the Hangman. And the Hangman _always_ gets his dues.”

That sent chills down Fareeha’s spine.

“Then what did Dr. Junkenstein give to you in return for creating life?”

“That I can’t tell you,” the Witch smiled, the mischievous twinkle back in her eyes. “Magician-patient privilege; I hope you can understand.”

“What happens when one of your ‘clients’ doesn’t hold up their end of the pact?”

“Then I take back the spell, or I take an item equivalent to the favor. I’m sure your king is very familiar with that.”

“My king called for your favor several years ago, when we had widespread crop failure,” Fareeha said.

“Ah, I remember that pact.”

“You saved our crops, saved hundreds of lives from being lost in the winter. But you still attacked us; what was done to provoke your wrath? What made you attack? How did we not uphold our end of the pact?”

“Magician-patient privileges,” the Witch smiled, wagging her finger. “Your king made that pact with me, one only he gets to know. He broke it, and I took back the equivalent of the spell.”

“But he said that we had to pay homage to you! We left you a sizable portion of the harvest as payment. Was that not enough?”

“I told your king what I wanted, and he saw fit to try and gain an edge on me, tried to twist the deal around. So I came to take what was owed; I can say nothing more,” the Witch said.

“That justifies your attack?”

“I came to your realm to take back what was owed to me. Banks in the realm often do the same for lenders who default on a payment, do they not?”

“You destroyed dozens of houses, killed many more, and terrorized us for the entire year.”

“And in the end, the debt was paid. It is not personal, it is business.”

“Ah, so the large print giveth, and the small print taketh away,” Fareeha said, rolling her eyes. “That makes _much_ more sense.”

“You don’t agree with me.”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Then tough shit,” the Witch laughed. “The world is a cruel, dark place. Was that little segment of my poem not clear enough? Should I tell you more, maybe the entire poem?”

More of the dark, fear-fueled poem?

“N-no, it’s fine.”

“If you insist.” The Witch was still smiling at her. She was enjoying this!

Fareeha had to change the subject. Being this close to the Witch of the Wilds was simultaneously enticing and terrifying; she didn’t know how much more she could take before something gave.

“You say that you were young a long time ago; how long was that?”

“My word! It’s unbecoming to ask a woman her age,” the Witch said, gasping in mock shock.

“Can’t you give me a straight answer?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” The Witch laughed. “I told you, life is a struggle. It’s unavoidable. The best thing  you can do is savor the battle, learn to enjoy it. It makes life more fun.”

“’It makes life more fun?’”

“Of course. Could you imagine life if everything was straight-forward? Imagine how dull it would be.”

“I don’t know, getting a straight answer out of you sounds pretty good right now.”

“Alright, there might be some up-sides, I’ll give you that,” the Witch said. “You’re a Shield-Maiden, are you not? Back in my time, prospects had to pass selection. What did you have to do to prove your worth, to prove that you had what it takes to be a Maiden?”

“I had to stand outside our headquarters for three days in the winter,” Fareeha said. “We couldn’t abandon our place, for any reason.”

“Ooh, harsh. I like it,” the Witch said, licking her lips. “Now imagine if there was no test like that. It’s straight-forward;

“’I want in.’

“’Okay, you’re in.’

“How _boring_ would that be?”

“I’m sure my younger self would’ve liked it a lot more,” Fareeha said.

“But where’s the value in joining if anyone would just up and join?”

Fareeha was about to reply, but came up short. The Shield-Maidens weren’t just soldiers, they were an elite branch of the king’s army. She had seen dozens of young women trying to dedicate themselves to the Maidens, and had seen dozens wash out. She felt bad for those girls, yes, but she knew that she would be getting strong sisters-in-arms.

If anyone could join, just by asking, what would make the Maidens elite? What would make them special?

“I think I can see what you mean,” she said. More than half her bottle was gone, and it was hitting Fareeha hard.

“See? Struggle adds value; it adds worth.” The Witch leaned forward to firmly take Fareeha’s chin and shake it. “Learn to love the struggle, my dear houseguest. Your life will be better for it.”

That was meant to be condescending, but Fareeha couldn’t help but shiver.

Just as suddenly as it started, the moment ended. The Witch upended her bottle, draining any last drop.

“Want another one?”

“Allah, no! How can you drink so much? You’re smaller than me!”

“Practice,” the Witch laughed. A fresh bottle floated through the air, and she daintily grabbed it. “I’ve had a long time to build up this tolerance.”

“You started drinking when you took me in,” Fareeha said. “I bet you’ve got a lot of practice.”

Since the Witch took her in…? Fareeha’s own words tripped her attention. She wrinkled her brow, thinking back to the previous night.

“You said you didn’t expect to live this long,” she said, “that there would be a big battle. No, the _last_ battle. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh. _That_ shit show,” the Witch groaned as she drank. “Maybe living as long as I have isn’t the healthiest thing for the human mind.”

“That drinking sure isn’t helping.” Fareeha couldn’t help but grin.

“Fuck off,” the Witch spat.

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh. It was fun to needle the Witch!

“The thing with being the infamous Witch of the Wilds is that everyone wants to trick me,” the Witch ranted, drinking as she went. “It’s a cliché as old as time. You want to make a deal with the Devil? You’ll spend every second trying to worm your way out of it. Everyone thinks they’re smarter than they really are, everyone always thinks they found some way to spin the pact around, everyone wants to turn nothing into something. It’s fucking tiring dealing with all that bullshit.”

“You mean people sign a pact and say ‘ha! I fooled you?’”

“Oh, those assholes are the _worst_. Like I said, they think they’re smarter than they really are. The first few times, when I first became the Witch, it had a certain thrill to it. ‘Did I mess up? Was there really a mistake? What would happen if I give away more than I should, upset the natural balance of the world?’

“Then as the decades and centuries go by, it just gets old and annoying. No, you did not just get me to agree to give you more than what you asked for. No, you didn’t find some tiny loophole that lets you get away scot free. No, no, no, a million damned times _no,_ you’re _not_ smarter than me! They just never get it!”

The Witch groaned, taking a lengthy pull from her bottle. She sounded like some world-weary, hourly paid worker.

“So all the pacts that you’ve made with the king is too much for you?”

“Not in the least. I’m very powerful, there’s not much I can’t do, but there’s an idiot born every minute. They want to prove something, so they come to the Witch of the Wilds. What really wears me out is how they fight against the inevitable. That’s tiring.”

The Witch was really slurring her words. Fareeha wondered how much the Witch drank before she came back to the mansion.

“Then what’s with this ‘final battle’ thing you were talking about?”

“Just me, trying to find an end to this all. It’s a certainty that the Witch of the Wilds will have to chase down those who try to resist, but now, I’m just tired. I was hoping for a battle to end this all.”

“End what all?”

“Either your kingdom, or my life.”

That made Fareeha pause. A way to end the Witch’s life? She must be really drunk to freely talk about this. Either that, or she was far too sure of her power, far too cocky.

“But you have your magic. You said there isn’t much you can’t do,” Fareeha said, her pulse picking up. Maybe she could find a way to beat the Witch. “What would a battle prove?”

“My magic _is_ strong, but I’m only one person. Your army? Any army? You are legion. Quantity is a quality all its own. I was hoping that there would be one lucking bastard who’d be able to put me down.”

“But my mother shot you in the heart.”

“And she didn’t have a silver bullet at the time.” The Witch pulled down her shirt to show the bullet wound. Fareeha blushed at seeing that much of the Witch’s breast. “But there are other ways to kill a witch. Shit, I remember that my mentor, the last Witch, drowned herself. Of course, she wasn’t _the_ Witch of the Wilds when she walked into the lake with stones about her waist; by then she had passed the title on to me, but I still think it counts.”

That made Fareeha stop.

“What do you mean, ‘the last Witch?’”

“The last Witch of the Wilds, my teacher,” the Witch said. “You didn’t think I’d be the only one, did you?”

“I did, actually.”

“Please! There must _always_ be a Witch of the Wilds. Balance has to be maintained, after all.”

“Then how did you become the Witch of the Wilds?”

“That’s a story for another night,” the Witch said, finishing her bottle. “I’m good and drunk, and I’m ready to crash. Stick around, my darling houseguest, maybe I’ll let you know.”

The Witch didn’t bother getting up. She held out her hand, and her broom flew to her.

“See you in the morning,” the Witch said, pulling herself onto the broom. She was so drunk, she simply draped herself across it. She looked like a cat lounging about. “That is, if you decide to stick around. Remember, there are no locked doors, and you can leave whenever you’d like.”

Laughing, the Witch slowly flew away on her broom, heading to wherever her room was. Fareeha glared at her as she went, trying not to stare at the mystical Witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for “Don’t Go Out Alone” goes to Simone Kimberley.


	6. After All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha grows tired of the messy mansion, and decides to do something about it. But she makes a very strange discovery.

Fareeha spent the night in the same bedroom that the Witch gave her. Even though the Witch told her that she had her choice of the entire mansion, Fareeha didn’t want to have to go through the trouble of changing the bedsheets.

She was by no means an obsessively tidy person, but the mess the Witch left around would start to grate on her nerves. She was surprised the mess hadn’t gotten to her already.

Waking up with the sun, she threw open the window to her room, looking out at the front of the mansion. Fareeha was surprised by how sunny and warm it was. It was the fall, soon to be winter, but summer still had a little bit left to say.

“Perfect running weather,” she smiled.

She might have had to endure two trips on the damned cobblestone road, but at least she was able to bring more clothes with her. Rummaging through her pack, she pulled out some of her moister-wicking workout clothes, and a pair of running shoes. Dressed, she took the grand stairwell down, two steps at a time, opening the massive door to the world. The strange glowing-palm spell the Witch placed on her was losing its novelty; Fareeha barely realized it was happening when she pulled at the door.

The front yard around the Witch’s mansion was huge. If she kept to the outside perimeter of the yard, by the forest and the mansion itself, Fareeha had to guess that one lap around was nearly a mile. It was a good distance, so she started by running, planning for five laps.

It was strange, running by the Omnics that stood outside of the mansion, but they were utterly still, little more than statues. Fareeha did her best to ignore them as she ran her laps around the front of the mansion’s front yard.

The air was crisp and cool, the breeze slight, and her heart was pounding a good rhythm; Fareeha was feeling too good to stop at her planed five laps, so she ran two more. Drenched in sweat, she finished her run by walking up the gravel pathway to the mansion, when she spotted the Witch lounging in a cloth backed folding chair on the yard.

“Enjoying your run?” The Witch asked, sipping a glass of what looked like orange juice. She wore a loose shirt and skirt, her long blonde hair a wild tangle. Fareeha knew the Witch wasn’t putting any effort into her choice of cloths, but that didn’t stop her from looking like a terribly attractive hot mess.

“I am,” Fareeha said, mopping some sweat off her brow. “Enjoying your juice?”

“It’s a screwdriver.”

“You like your drinks, don’t you?”

“We all need to believe in something,” the Witch laughed. “I believe I’ll have another.”

Fareeha snorted as a second glass floated on out, refreshing the Witch.

“If you have more work to do, don’t let me stop you. I’m just enjoying the weather and the scenery,” she said, winking at Fareeha.

The Witch was right; the weather was too nice to stay inside. But her admiring the ‘scenery?’ Was the Witch checking her out?

For some reason, Fareeha got her second wind.

“Last night, you said you wanted a battle between my king’s army and you,” Fareeha said, kneeling down to do some push-ups. “Why would you want a war? Wouldn’t that upset the balance you protect?”

“One of the pleasures of knowing what I know is knowing what’s important and what’s not,” the Witch said. “The battle would be large, yes, but on a certain scale, it’s barely more than a bump. Shit, probably less than that.”

“And what if you were to die? Who would keep balance then?”

“Why, the Witch of the Wilds, of course.”

“But you would’ve died.”

“And I told you there was a Witch before me. There must _always_ be a Witch.”

“Then…you have a successor? An heir? A protégé?”

“Yes, technically. Magic is…” The Witch hemmed and hawed, looking for the right word. “It’s strange. It’s not the best word, but it works. The magic will pick who would be the next Witch, and gives them the power that I have. The mantle is passed, and balance is maintained.”

“But who would teach the new Witch?”

“The magic wouldn’t just pick any random woman. It finds the right woman to be the next Witch. She would be inquisitive, have a thirst for knowledge, be strong of will, and shrewd enough to pick up the duties described to her.”

“Really now?” Fareeha said. Finishing her push-ups, she rolled over for crunches.

“I was such a woman once,” the Witch said. “My mentor killed herself after only a few weeks of tutoring me; there have been Witches that have had less. Besides, there are plenty of books that detail the duties of the Witch of the Wilds. I even wrote a few myself.”

“Why would your mentor have…you know…?”

“The long years of being the Witch takes a toll on the mind. She wanted to see her husband again; it was driving her insane living without him.”

“She was married?”

“Does that shock you?”

“Of course. I mean, you live all the way out here…”

“There have been Witches who’ve had entire families. One Witch had children that spanned an entire century; one was a newborn while the eldest was pushing one hundred. The mansion is quite big, after all.”

“Why haven’t you had your own? Why keep it empty?”

The Witch didn’t reply. Fareeha looked up from her crunches; the Witch was staring out at the forest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Time changes people,” the Witch said. Fareeha stopped, lying on the ground from her crunches. “Not just me, but the people around me. You think you know people, you think you know how they will react, but they find ways of surprising you.

“I’m not blameless. I got lost in my books, lost in my magic, lost in the balance. By the time I realized how lost I was, so much time had passed. And when I came back to the realm, no one remembered who I was. Everyone I knew was gone, and there were new people there. People who’d only heard of me from stories, not as one of their own ascended. And…”

The Witch shook her head.

“Look at me, getting sentimental,” she snorted. “I think I’ve had enough of these.”

She tossed the empty glass over her shoulder. It spun in the air, paused, then headed back inside, no doubt to sit on the massive countertop with the rest of the dirty dishes.

“You still have your workout to do. I’ve been in your hair enough,” the Witch said, getting up. The chair magically folded itself up and began floating, following her back inside.

“Wait,” Fareeha called.

The Witch didn’t stop, but she looked over her shoulder as she was walking.

“If you’re not the only Witch of the Wilds, if you were just a woman once, then what should I call you?”

“’Witch’ works just fine,” the Witch said. The heavy doors closed behind her, leaving Fareeha sitting on the grass, wondering what was nearly said.

 

* * *

 

After a quick shower, Fareeha looked at her given room. The mess was really getting to her.

“If I’m going to be living here, it’s gonna be at least a little cleaner,” she grumbled.

Pulling on some fresh clothes, and making sure she still had the Soldier’s watch in her pocket, she started tidying up.

The old linen was still balled up and tossed into a corner. Looking through the closet, Fareeha found an old wooden crate. It seemed positively ancient. Just how old was the Witch? How old was this place?

Fareeha set the empty crate down, and dumped all the old linen in it. Going through the closet, she gathered up everything that was not properly folded; it was a lot.

Sneezing from the dust, she opened the windows to try and air the room out. Fareeha gathered up the box, and walked down the stairs. It didn’t look like the Witch had washing machines, so it was possible she had some kind of washing system either in the basement or outside.

Going into the basement of a witch’s mansion seemed like a great way to star in her own horror movie, so Fareeha looked for a back door. She walked through the kitchen, expecting to see the Witch, but found it empty. There was, however, a door to the back of the mansion. Fareeha opened it, and stopped dead in her tracks.

The Witch didn’t have a backyard; she had an entire farm behind her mansion.

There was a massive clearing between the mansion and the enchanted woods. In nearly half of the clearing, there was a huge field growing various greens. There were even Omnics in the fields, acting as scarecrows. Fareeha saw beans, squash, corn, tomatoes, massive carrot patches and even cropped wheat. And there was an equally large barn towards the outskirts of the clearing. From there, Fareeha could hear cows, bulls, horses, pigs, and chickens.

“What the hell,” she gasped. “What kind of place is this?”

There was a series of barrels with washboards and clothesline by the house; any laundry would have to be done by hand and left to dry. But finding this hidden farm was suddenly more important. Fareeha set the box of clothes down and started walking around.

It was the fall, so many of the plants were harvested, notably the wheat and corn; the Omnic scarecrows stood in the empty fields, frozen in place. But in other fields there were still some beans, squash, and carrots that still had yet to be picked. She bent down and pulled a carrot out of the ground, taking a cautious bite. Carrots were her favorite vegetable, and these were just as tasty as the ones she bought from the farmer’s market in town.

Munching on the carrot, she continued to walk around, simply stunned at the farm. Was the Witch out here? She couldn’t see her blonde hair anywhere. Walking from the crops to the barn, she saw dozens of chickens and pigs in their pens, and a handful of cows and a few bulls were grazing between the barn and the forest. There wasn’t a fence to keep the cows in, but they obediently stayed in the clearing. Maybe the forest spooked them.

“Guess this isn’t why we see the Witch go shopping in town,” she mumbled.

Then she remembered the pact that the king made to save a crop failure several years ago, the one she brought up to the Witch last night. The king said they had to leave some of the harvest for the Witch, but the Witch had attacked regardless.

“Maybe this is why she attacked. She had her own harvest; she mustn’t have needed ours.”

No wonder the Witch never flew to town for food. Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh at the image of the Witch flying in with a large basket to pick up her weekly groceries. In her mind’s eye, the Witch wore a colorful, breezy sundress, and a wide-brimmed hat.

She was so busy fantasizing about the Witch in different dresses, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she entered the barn.

There was a massive figure in the barn. He was tall, broad shouldered, and dangerous. Fareeha’s heart skipped a few beats; the figure was wreathed in shadows, and wore a white mask. It was the Reaper.

Instinctively, she reached for her sidearm. But she didn’t have any weapons. She was naked without one, in the room with an unholy killer.

The Reaper was sitting on a stool with his back to her. Hearing her jump, he turned around. Like always, she couldn’t see his eyes, only his white mask. She didn’t even know if he _had_ eyes. But Fareeha knew the Reaper was looking dead at her.

She was in trouble. No, she was dead; she just didn’t know it yet.

The Reaper looked at her. She stared back. Tense seconds passed, then he turned back around.

It took Fareeha nearly a minute to realize that the Reaper was sitting in front of a cow. Sounds were coming from in front of him, of liquid hitting a bucket.

“Are…are you milking that cow?” Fareeha stammered.

The Reaper grunted an affirmative sound.

Fareeha’s mind took another minute to comprehend that.

“Why?”

“I was asked to,” the Reaper said. “And it had to be done.”

The cow happily mooed, and the Reaper got up, carrying the full bucket. He carried it to the side of the barn, and poured it into a massive milk barrel. Gently taking the cow by the collar, he led it outside, brushing past Fareeha.

Fareeha stared at the Reaper as he led the cow back to her friends, and took another one into the barn to be milked. Despite his monstrous appearance, the cows never once tried to run away. If anything, they seemed to like him, licking at his face mask and nuzzling him. The Reaper even pulled out a handful of salt lick cubes, which the cows happily took.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as the Reaper started milking the next cow.

“I was asked me to,” he replied.

“And you do it?”

“Mm-hm.”

“But…why? Wouldn’t you rather be killing someone?”

The Reaper actually paused to think about it.

“No,” he finally said. “I like this.”

That was enough weirdness for one day. Fareeha left the barn in a haze, still not trusting what her eyes told her was happening. She made her way back to the mansion, where she found the box of linen. There was a spigot and hose attached to the mansion; turning it on, she filled one of the barrels with water. Fortunately, there was a big bar of soap in each of the barrels, giving her soapy water. She got to washing the linen.

Every so often, she’d look up at the barn. Eventually, the Reaper would walk out with one cow, return it to the mini-herd, and take another one to be milked.

“This is _more_ than enough weirdness for the day,” she mumbled.

 

* * *

 

With the linen washed and hung up to dry, Fareeha realized just how hungry she was. Then she remembered that she skipped breakfast. The Soldier’s watch told her it was just past one, so it was definitely time to eat.

She made her way back into the kitchen, making sure the Reaper wasn’t following her. Inside, the Witch was raiding her pantry, setting different things on a counter top.

“You look like you’ve seen something,” the Witch said.

“Why the hell do you have the Reaper milking cows for you?”

“Oh, so you saw him?” She smiled.

“He’s a killer. He’s killed dozens of the king’s Knights, more than enough Shield-Maidens. Why the fuck is he milking gorram cows?”

“I have cows that need to be milked, and he’s normally just standing around,” the Witch said. “It has to be done, so I asked him.”

“You just order the Reaper to milk cows?”

“I _ask_ him to, and it’s more than just milking. He’s actually quite handy with a scythe when it comes to harvesting.”

“I fucking bet. Any other strange sights you should warn me about?”

“Plenty!” The Witch smiled, walking over to Fareeha. “But where’s the fun in just telling you?”

“Let me guess: you want me to enjoy the shock and struggle.”

“Trust me, you need to enjoy the little things in life while you still can.”

Fareeha was about to say something, but the tone in the Witch’s voice gave her pause. It made her feel sad, for some reason. It stood out against the smile on her face.

“Lunch?” The Witch asked, walking back to the messy kitchen. Just like that, the moment was over. “I’m making a pastrami sandwich.”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

The Witch already had a loaf of bread on the counter, but Fareeha helped her take out a head of lettuce and some mustard out of the larder attached to the kitchen. Walking in, her breath fogged up ahead of her.

“By the new gods, it’s cold.”

“Almost like it’s magic, isn’t it?” The Witch laughed.

Fareeha couldn’t help but join her in laughing.

“Yes, almost like it is!”

Together, they made their sandwiches.

“Join me outside?” The Witch asked.

“I thought I drove you away this morning.”

“I suffer from a severe case of melancholy. It flares up every so often.”

“Did a doctor diagnose you?”

“Have you seen the amount of books that I have? I don’t have much to do, so I read and learn. I’m a doctor _to_ a doctor.”

“Then if I don’t cause any flare ups, I’d love to join you.”

The Witch led them outside, where a table was waiting for them.

“Did you magic that out here, or did you have the Reaper act as your butler?”

“Magic,” the Witch said, pulling a chair out for Fareeha. Sitting down, the Witch noticed the line of linen out to dry.

“That’s yours?” She asked.

“Just the linen in my room that’s not being used.”

“Making yourself right at home now, are we?”

“My king ordered me to surrender myself to you, so I have,” Fareeha said. “Don’t you remember that?”

“The Shield-Maidens haven’t changed the slightest since my time,” the Witch sighed. “Then I hope you’re making yourself happy, my dear houseguest.”

“So far I am.”


	7. Seven Days to Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Thanksgiving coming, Fareeha wants to see her family and friends again. But to do that, she would have to brave the cobblestone road again.

Life with the Witch had fallen into a rhythm.

Fareeha woke up and rolled out of bed, walking to the attached bathroom to take a shower. She had cleaned the bathroom more than twice in the weeks since she moved in, and the tiles that lined the walls and floors shined. 

After her shower, she dressed. While the Witch said she could help herself to any clothes from the dresser, Fareeha was still hesitant to simply take the clothes, so mostly relied on what she brought from home.

Showered and dressed, she walked down to the kitchen, where the Witch was cooking breakfast. Or rather, her magic was cooking while she sat off to the side, her nose in a book. The Reaper walked into the kitchen, his feet surrounded by a cloud of shadows, a small basket of eggs in his gauntleted hands. He set eggs on the table, fresh from the hen house, which then rose in the air, cracking themselves over a hot cast iron pan. A fork would scramble them, while spices and cheese added themselves to the dish.

“How are the hens?” The Witch asked.

“Good,” the Reaper said.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am.”

“I’m glad,” the Witch smiled. “If you want, you can go about your chores.”

Grunting, the Reaper walked away. It still unnerved Fareeha to see the murderer walking about with impunity; it was even more shocking to see him work as a simple farm hand.

As usual, the Witch was drinking. Today, it was more sangria. But she was sipping it, rather than drinking like it was water. She had only gone through one glass, as opposed to one pitcher.

“Good morning, Witch,” Fareeha said, sitting down.

“Hello, my darling houseguest,” the Witch smiled. A glass of orange juice floated in front of Fareeha, followed by a plate of eggs.

“Thank you.”

“You are most certainly welcome.”

The Witch was getting better at accepting her politeness, but her face still flushed a bit hearing Fareeha say ‘thank you.’ That only made Fareeha be more polite with the Witch.

“Sleep good?” The Witch asked, setting her book down.

“Incredibly,” Fareeha smiled. “I’m surprised the beds are still good.”

“Almost like they’re magic?” The Witch smiled.

“Exactly like they’re magic,” Fareeha laughed.

“I’m so glad they’re getting used.”

Normally, Fareeha ate, then went to cleaning. It felt good to be doing something, anything really. Winter had come, and with it came a few inches of snow; she couldn’t run outside much anymore. And of course it felt great to be in a clean room. In fact, she was nearly done cleaning the entire second floor. Each bedroom was a challenge, but seeing her finished work, the lack of dust, and everything in a good place made Fareeha feel better.

She still had no idea how the Witch lived in her messy mansion.

But today was different. She had practiced what to say in a mirror, but found her courage deserting her. Looking at the Witch just made her want to go about her normal plans. Even though the Witch was smaller than she, it was like the Witch was exerting some control over Fareeha.

Gathering up her courage, she spoke.

“So, I’ve been here for a few weeks.”

“That you have. How time flies when you’re having fun,” the Witch said.

“Thanksgiving is in a few days,” Fareeha said.

“Hm. So it is.”

“I was hoping I could go back home, visit my mother.”

The Witch smiled.

“Do you have a chain about your ankle?” She asked.

“What?”

“Are you chained?”

“No, unless you’ve put a spell on me.”

“Only if you want to be under my spell,” the Witch laughed. Fareeha had to bite her tongue to keep from volunteering. “Is there a door that doesn’t open for you?”

“Not that I’ve found.”

“Have you heard me tell you not to go anywhere?”

“Never.”

“Than what makes you think you have to ask my permission to visit your mother? I’ve been telling you ad nauseam that you’re not trapped here. You have a key to every door in this mansion; you can do what you please.”

“You’ve also told me that I should be scared of the unknown, but to be safe in how I push back against it.”

“That’s true. Do you feel that asking me if you may leave is asking too much?”

“I’d rather play it safe, thank you.”

“Not a bad attitude,” the Witch said. “But if you are to stay here, than I hope that you can count me as an ally, rather than a potential enemy. After all, if you treat someone as a friend, you’ll gain a friend; treat them as an enemy, you’ll get an enemy.”

“I’m also being polite,” Fareeha said.

That made the Witch pause, and her beautiful face flush. She was so unaccustomed to having manners thrown at her.

“T-then thank you for that,” the Witch said. “Yes, of course I’ll let you visit your mother. You may visit her as long as you’d like. In fact, you can stay with her, if you want. You’re here on your own free will.”

“I’m here because my King ordered me here,” Fareeha said.

“That damned king’s orders. You should do what you want, not what someone else orders you to do,” the Witch muttering, still blushing. “Fine. Come crawling back. See if I care.”

“I think you’d care a great deal if I came crawling back,” Fareeha said, a smile plastered to her face.

“Like hell I will!” The Witch said. She crossed her legs while looking away.

Satisfied with her win, Fareeha went back to her breakfast.

“It’s getting colder,” the Witch said as they both ate. “And the snow is going to get heavy. You’ll need better clothes.”

“I’ll be fine with mine,” Fareeha said. “I have a light jacket.”

“That’s the problem: it’s light. We’ve already got a few inches of snow, and we’ll be getting more. You’ll need something heavier.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Please, I’ve seen how you shiver when you go outside.”

That made Fareeha blush. She hated the cold, but she thought she hid it better than that.

“Don’t do it for you, do it for me,” the Witch said. “I couldn’t stand seeing you cold. And do it for your mother; imagine the tongue-lashing you’ll get if you come home half frozen.”

“I almost forgot about that,” Fareeha admitted. “Do you have coats to spare?”

“Have you seen where I live?” The Witch laughed. “I have everything to spare.”

“Then I thank you. Again.”

“And again, you are welcome,” the Witch said, blushing ever so slightly.

“Will the road be covered with snow?”

“You’ll still be able to follow the paths.”

“No, I mean _the_ road,” Fareeha said. “The cobblestone road.”

“Ah,” the Witch nodded, understanding what she meant. She set her book aside.

“I can’t tell you anything about the cobblestone road, but I can tell you a few rules it follows. It relies on choice, free will. What’s the point of having a road that takes you where _it_ wants to go, does whatever it wants with you? The cobblestone road shows you where you _should_ be going, and punishes you when you have the audacity to _not_ go that direction.

“Sure, it places it’s metaphorical thumb on the scale; it lies to you, misleads you, does everything in its power to lead you astray, but at the end of the day, it’s your own free will that makes the decision of where to go. You are free to follow the true path, and you are free to follow the lies it tells you.

“But it _can’t_ cheat by railroading you onto the wrong path. It _must_ show you the right way, and it tries to tempt you to the wrong way. Does that make sense?”

“I…think it does?” Fareeha said. “It tries to hustle me?”

“Not a bad analogy. It’s like a shell game; there’s a chance for you to win, but it tries to make you lose. It moves the shells about fast, behind its back and over its shoulder, anything it can to lead you astray. But you can still chose the right one; it can _never_ take your free will away, it can _never_ make you lose on purpose. Because of that, the road has to stay clear at all times. It might have some snow on it, some leaves, but it is _always_ clearly marked.”

“And what if it is completely covered with snow? What if I can’t see the road?”

“Then it won’t work,” the Witch said. “It just becomes a regular road, instead of a magical one. The thing you have to understand about magic is that is always, _always_ follows the rules. The rules might be twisted and convoluted, stupid and arbitrary, they might even follow some alien logic, but there will _always_ be rules. If the rules are gone, then so is the magic.

“If you see the cobblestone road, be on your guard. But if you only see snow covered ground, then you’re safe.”

“Shit, I still don’t want to go down that road,” Fareeha mumbled.

“That’s only natural. Only human.”

“Can’t you just fly me home?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” The Witch smiled, holding her head in her hands. “Where’s the struggle? Where’s the _growth?_ ”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha was bundled up for the cold. The Witch, true to her word, had given her a heavy down jacket and snow pants. She had a large leather backpack as well; not to carry anything home, but to carry things from home. Finally, she had the same vellum sheet of directions to take her back home.

“’Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the struggle? Where’s the growth?’” Fareeha mumbled, mocking the Witch. “Sure, it’s all fun and games when you’re not the one who’s got to walk it.”

Grumbling and bitching, she followed the road from the Witch’s mansion, giving one last look to the Omnics that stood outside of the mansion. They were covered in the new snow, removing any fear or apprehension that Fareeha had towards them. They seemed peaceful; romantic even.

Walking past the Omnics, Fareeha headed into the enchanted forest, passing the Reaper who was shoveling the front stairs. All of the leaves were gone, leaving the trees bare and snow covered. She wasn’t at the cobblestone road yet, so she got to enjoy the scenery while she could. Everything was peaceful, picturesque.

The road led to the fork, which led to the brook, which led to the bridge. Soon, she was at the ticket, and beyond that, the cobblestone road. The thicket itself had lost any greenery with the winter; there were only a few branches separating it from the cobblestone.

Taking a deep breath, Fareeha pushed through it.

She could see the road. Despite the fresh snowfall from the night, she could easily see the bricks that made up the cobblestone road; there was only a light dusting of snow upon it. The entire road looked like it was shoveled clear, with snow banks on either side, but there were still small pathways beaten into the snow, leading off into the woods.

The road was there. And with it, whatever otherworldly-ness that would try to tempt her. She could already hear the unnatural silence descending upon her, the omnipresent wrongness worming its way into the grey matter of her brain and the marrow of her bones.

Holding the vellum map below her chin, she began trudging along the road.

The last two times she walked the road, her mind was pulled away almost immediately, drifting into a daydream. She still remembered hearing the trumpets that heralded her arrival, or Lena and Emily suggesting a hot and steamy ménage à troi.

But this time, there was nothing. She could see the road, and the gravel paths that led away from the cobblestones. There was nothing. The world was quiet. No familiar sounds, no warm smells of cooking, no errant daydreams. There was only the slight crunch of snow under her boots, and nothing else.

Fareeha walked on, staying dead center of the road.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the road played by different rules, and being slightly covered by snow invalidated whatever rules it followed. Maybe she was getting worked up over nothing; despite the wrongness, everything felt unnaturally peaceful, at ease. The last two times, she could immediately tell something was wrong. But now? Now it felt normal. Quiet, yes, but utterly normal.

Looking at the bends of the road and her point on the map, Fareeha judged that she was halfway through the cobblestone road.

Yes, she was getting worked up over nothing. If she could get halfway through the road without so much as a whisper, than what was she worrying about? Maybe whatever was trying to lure her was taking a vacation as well. Maybe she had proven herself already, and the road was letting her past.

Her hands dropped from her chest to her sides. The map was flapping against her thighs.

It was just her and the picturesque beauty of the snow covered world. It was winter. Her mother used to call this ‘the time of death,’ but the Soldier always told her that there was life and beauty in everything. She couldn’t wait to see her mother again, or the man that should be her father.

Something tore itself out of her hands. Fareeha jerked her head up; it was the map blowing away from her.

“Shit! Get back here!”

She took two steps, than realized she was off the road by a good ten feet.

Running, she got back to the exposed cobblestones. She was suddenly breathing hard, and underneath her jacket she was covered with a cold sweat. Somehow, she had nearly walked off the damn road.

The map landed on the ground, in the middle of the cobblestone road. It stayed put, waiting for her to recover it.

Her hands were trembling as she picked up the map. It had saved her yet again.

Fareeha looked up. She was standing in the middle of the road, but wanted to make absolutely sure she was on the right path; gone was the gentle feeling of nothing. Things were suddenly wrong, wrong, wrong!

Taking a few cautious steps, she began walking forward. There were no voices, no smells, nothing. But knowing how easily she just started walking off the path made her paranoid beyond belief. Her heart pounding, sweat pouring off of her, she took step after step, making sure she was in the dead center of the road.

The sun crested; it was past two o’clock when she finally reached the glen. But she had made it, and hadn’t so much as strayed from the center of the road.

Fareeha jumped off the cursed road and ran through the frozen glen. The tiny stream had frozen over; her boots broke through the thin ice as she bolted forward, terror pushing her harder and harder. She rolled her ankle, but kept running until she was in the clearing that lead to the realm, to her village.

Gasping for breath, she unzipped the jacket. Steam rose off her as her sweat evaporated in the cold.

“I’m back, I’m safe,” she gasped, catching her breathe. “Finally.”

She walked through the clearing, back to the outskirts of the village. In her winter jacket, no one immediately recognized her. A few people gave her lingering looks, but Fareeha brushed past them before they could call out to her.

Soon she was in front of her mother’s house. She knocked on the door.

Her mother, carrying a tray of her alchemic experiments, answered the door. Seeing her wayward daughter, Ana dropped the tray. Glass shattered as she wrapped Fareeha in a fierce hug.

 

* * *

 

“You must be getting good at sneaking away from the Witch,” the Soldier said. He carried a tray of warm mulled cider to the table. Fareeha sat with her mother, who was still clutching her hand as if she expected Fareeha to be torn away at any second.

“She actually let me come back,” Fareeha said.

“Why’s that?”

“I asked her if I could. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and I’d like to spend it home.”

“And she just let you?”

“Jack, be grateful,” her mother chided. “Our daughter is back with us for the holiday! We need to celebrate, we need to…We need to clean her room! Allah, we let it get dirty and dusty!”

“Mother, it’s okay,” Fareeha laughed. “I’ve been doing plenty of cleaning at the Witch’s mansion—”

“That evil woman makes you work?” Her mother gasped.

“No, no, I’m doing it myself. She’s not the cleanest person; it makes me feel better living in a clean house.”

“Then you can’t see the state your room has fallen into,” her mother said, getting up. “You should have told us you were coming, we could have had this all prepared!”

“The Witch doesn’t exactly keep a phone in her mansion, mother.”

“That’s no excuse! Allah, I need an hour or so, there’s so much to do.”

“Mother, it’s fine. I want to visit the Shield-Maidens anyways, I can dip out for an hour or so.”

“Yes, an excellent idea,” the Alchemist said. “Go visit your friends, give us time to work. But be back for dinner! Oh, we’ll need to tell the King about this, he would love to see you back safe and sound.”

Her mother ran off, a spring in her step. The Soldier laughed as he watched her move.

“Your room’s really not that bad,” he said. “Just a little dusty.”

“It’s fine,” Fareeha said. “Mother doesn’t need to worry herself.”

“You’re right, but let her. She’s been worried sick about you,” he said. “This is making her week, you know. Shit, it’s probably making her month.”

“It’s making mine, as well.”

Fareeha got up and gave the Soldier a hug.

“Damn good to have you back for a few days, kid.”

“I’m glad you and mother are still holding up.”

“You know us old riders; we’re hard to get rid of,” the Soldier laughed. “Go check on your friends, your room will be done when you get back.”

The Soldier got her jacket, and then it was back out into the winter. Fareeha made her way through the streets, taking in the sights of the snow covered buildings. She saw the castle, and meandered on over, taking all the side streets and scenic routes she knew.

She missed the hustle and bustle of the city. The Witch’s mansion was nice, but it was too quiet and empty.

At last, she made it to the Shield-Maiden’s headquarters. The headquarters itself was big enough to be a minor castle, growing from the castle wall, overlooking a massive field where they trained the new recruits. Standing in the snow covered field were a host of girls, barely older than sixteen.

They were the new recruits, trying to prove their worth; they were standing at attention, perhaps on their second day of their three day ordeal. Even though they were bundled up, many were shivering, all were exhausted, but Fareeha could see the defiance in their eyes, the drive to be a member of the exalted Shield-Maidens. Many looked at empty spots in their rows where other girls had collapsed, been tricked into abandoning their post, or simply washed out.

The girls saw her. Many did double-takes and gasped, no doubt recognizing Fareeha as the one the Witch took.

“Stay strong, sisters,” Fareeha said. “You’ll make it through, and be stronger for it.”

The girls broke out smiling. To be acknowledged by a veteran Maiden was one thing, but to be called a sister, that gave many girls a boost. Fareeha knew they needed it.

She walked to the main doors of the barracks, into the mess hall. Inside were veteran Maidens. Many were gathered in their own groups, eating an early dinner, checking their weapons and equipment, or just sitting around and joking. With Thanksgiving coming up, there was never much to do.

Fareeha inhaled deeply, missing the smell of her home away from home. It took nearly ten seconds for someone to look at her.

“Fareeha?!”

This time, she was ready. There was a blue blur as Lena zipped about, popping out of and into existence as she blinked across the room. She full on flying tackled Fareeha, but she wasn’t blindsided by the little woman. Fareeha held her ground and caught her friend.

“Holy hell, ya came back!” Lena said. “This is wicked! You’re back with us for holidays, are you? Did ya slip by that cranky old witch again? Give her the dip? Come on, tell us!”

“Lena, it is not nice to jump on a sister,” a stern voice said. A massive hand grabbed Lena by her chronal accelerator and lifted her away. Fareeha hoped her ribs were up for what came next.

“It’s good to see you, Zaryaaaaaaaagh!!”

The pink haired giant scoped her up in a back-breaking embrace. As much as she liked being manhandled, Zarya’s affection was always a little more than she could take.

“Sister, you’ve come back!” Zarya roared. Like King Reinhardt, her voice was naturally loud. “Lena always told us you’d find your way back. It is good to see you!”

“It’s good…to breathe…”

Laughing, Zarya set her down. Fareeha barely had a second to catch her breath before the Ruskie nearly sent her flying with a few hearty pats to the back. To Fareeha, it was like being hit with a wrecking ball.

“Oy, ease up there, Zarya, you’ll kill her,” Lena laughed.

“Ah, but if the Witch of the Wilds couldn’t get rid of her, I’m sure nothing would,” Zarya roared. “Come! This calls for a toast!”

“Fareeha? You’re alive!”

“Hana, please, I need a moment,” Fareeha groaned. “Zarya nearly killed me.”

Hana Song laughed with Lena as she pushed her way through the crowd.

“Yes, she tends to do that,” Hana said. “Are you back forever? Can I still be your apprentice again?”

“There somethin’ wrong with being my apprentice?” Lena asked.

“No, but I just missed Fareeha,” Hana said. “I mean, she was taken from us by that damn Witch.”

“It’s not so bad,” Fareeha said, cracking her back. “It’s actually kind of strange.”

“That sounds like a story. And to hear a story, we need a drink!” Zarya said. A few women had pulled out flagons and began passing them around. “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, Hana?”

“She’s my big sister,” Hana pouted. “I was her first apprentice! I deserve this.”

“Good, you’re growing some spine,” Zarya laughed, handing both Hana and Fareeha a flagon. “To the returning champion!”

“Here, here!” The Shield-Maidens chanted, lifting their flagons high. Fareeha drank deep, savoring the ale. Maybe she could get the Witch to magic some up.

“Come on, let’s hear what you’ve been up to,” Lena said, grabbing a table.

“I first want to hear what happened since I’ve left,” Fareeha said. “Hana, they took my recommendation and placed you under Lena?”

“They did,” Hana said. “And I was looking forward to learning how to be a Shield-Maiden from you. After all the work you did trying to get me to wash out during selection, I wanted to prove I was worth something!”

“You _are_ worth something, little one,” Zarya said. “You are a Maiden; joining our ranks shows that you have what it takes.”

“But I wanted to show it off to Fareeha.”

“Hana, it’s okay, I know how competitive you are,” Fareeha said. “But Zarya is right; you don’t have to prove anything to anyone again. You only have to prove it to yourself.”

“See? What have I been telling ya?” Lena smiled, giving Hana a nudge. “Hana’s been doing good. She’s going ‘bout her training, finding her place in the Maidens; she might even be working with Zarya soon.”

“Hana? Working with Zarya? That I just can’t see,” Fareeha said, looking from the tiny Hana Song to the massive Aleksandra Zaryanova. 

“The Viking and the Yeti are cooking something up,” Zarya said.

“What have they made this time?”

“A hunk of metal they think can do the work of a real woman,” Zarya laughed.

“Not all of us can be the she-hulk,” Lena said.

“Ah, that must be _terrible_.”

“Way to shatter the stereotype,” Hana laughed. “’The Shield-Maidens aren’t all beefcakes! Oh, hello Zarya!’”

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh with Hana and Lena. Even Zarya was laughing at the good-natured jab.

“Speaking of stereotypes, you aren’t trying to convert our little sister, are you, Lena?” Fareeha asked.

“Convert? What do ya take me for?”

“An even more horrible stereotype, that’s what,” Hana said. “ _All_ of you are clichés. The Shield-Maidens aren’t all flaming lesbians? You three are as straight as a circle.”

“Ha! Our little sister just feels out of place!” Zarya roared. “We’ll get you a nice date, don’t you worry.”

“I don’t want a girlfriend.”

“That’s why I said ‘date,’ not ‘girlfriend,’” Zarya said. “What do _you_ take me for?”

Hana blushed and grumbled, which only made Fareeha laugh more.

“Speaking for flaming lesbians,” she laughed, “how’s your ice queen?”

“Oh, you mean Mei?” Zarya said. “She is good. Always working, but no one is perfect.”

“I’m still surprised you went for someone who wasn’t a Maiden,” Lena said. “Always thought you’d date inside the ranks.”

“Back in my birth kingdom, when my father was alive, he told me one thing: ‘Zarya, don’t shit where you eat.’”

“What does that mean?” Hana asked.

“It means you shouldn’t behave in a way, or make a choice, that will ruin something you rely upon,” Zarya said. “It is also a fancy way of saying you shouldn’t date where you work. If things break up and get ugly, it makes life hard for everyone. Look at Lena and Amélie.”

“Hey, come on, that was one time,” Lena mumbled.

“All it takes is one time, little Tracer,” Zarya roared. “Reminds me of a joke.”

“Oh please, not one of those…”

“A man is sitting at a bar,” Zarya said, ignoring Lena. “He is drinking and cursing his luck.

“He turns to the bartender and says, ‘see that pier? I made that pier all by myself. People fish from that peer, launch their boats from that pier, make their living on that pier. Do they call me the pier maker? No.’

“’See that bridge? I made that bridge all by myself. People travel across that bridge, use it to visit their family, they run their businesses across that bridge every single day. Do they call me the bridge maker? No.

“’But you fuck one goat, and suddenly _everyone_ calls you a goat fucker.'"

Fareeha nearly spat up her ale at that. She couldn’t help but laugh. Hana was beside herself as well, but Lena was blushing furiously.

“All it takes is one time, and you get stuck with a name,” Zarya smiled, patting Lena on the back. “I’m sorry it had to be you, I really am. But you know that you’re the cautionary tale, yes?”

“Yea, yea, rub it in, why don’t ya?” Lena grumbled.

“But you have Emily,” Hana said. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other. It’s magical!”

“Thanks, Hana. I’m glad you know how to make me feel better,” Lena said, glaring at Zarya. 

“Come on, it’s all in good fun!” The pink haired woman laughed. Fareeha realized how much she missed her friends. If the Witch was dead set on not locking her up, she’d have to visit more often, damn the cobblestone road.


	8. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha is given a new order by the King to spy on the Witch. But the Witch's unexpected hospitality suddenly makes that a difficult order to follow.

Fareeha never wanted to make a big scene. She just wanted some relaxing time at home with her mother, the Soldier, and her friends. But being the one the Witch chose, the one the Witch kidnapped, gave her a measure of infamy.

King Reinhardt always held a massive Thanksgiving feast for the Knights, Shield-Maidens, and Thanes of the realm, but Fareeha never expected to be held as the guest of honor. She sat at the king’s right hand, looking down the massive table that ran the length of the banquet hall. What did she do to deserve such a spot? It wasn’t like the Witch of the Wilds held her hostage, or forced her into indentured servitude; life with the Witch was easy.

“To my greatest Shield-Maiden!” King Reinhardt bellowed, a massive flagon in his hands. “May she represent the realm in honor during her imprisonment!”

“Once a Maiden!” Zarya yelled.

“Always a Maiden!” Her battle sisters yelled.

Fareeha held her goblet high, accepting their praise as they toasted the banquet. But the Witch never held her against her will; the Witch always said she could leave anytime she wanted. She wasn’t even locked in a room; she could go anywhere in the mansion.

Not that that mattered; the banquet hall roared their approval in the toast. Her mother sat next to her, along with the Soldier. The rest of the Fabled Four sat to the King’s left. The Archer and the Gunslinger seemed thankfully unperturbed; they usually sat to the king’s right, the spot she was occupying. But their spot was given to the woman whom the Witch wanted.

It was bad luck to offer a toast without drinking, so Fareeha took a long pull of her ale. She wondered how much longer she had to be known as ‘the one who escaped the Witch.’ She didn’t deserved the praise, she just spent her days training and cleaning; there were others more deserving than her.

But Fareeha held her peace. She was a Shield-Maiden, a sworn sword to the King. It wasn’t her place to speak out against her ruler. So she shut her mouth, smiled, and accepted the praise.

“Tell me,” King Reinhardt said in his massive voice, “how have you defied the Witch?”

Fareeha tried not to laugh. Everyone expected her to defy the Witch at every turn. If only they knew that the Witch expected nothing of her. If only they knew that the Witch left her alone, to do cleaning of all things!

“The Witch expects me to be a good soldier,” Fareeha said. “So, I prove her right.”

“By being a good soldier?” Reinhardt roared.

“Exactly,” Fareeha said. “She doesn’t expect me to be the perfect soldier, so I prove her wrong. I show her exactly how us Shield-Maidens are expected to act!”

The Shield-Maidens in the hall cheered wildly. Fareeha could see Hana bragging to the new recruits how she was an apprentice under her, how she learned everything she knew from Fareeha.

“You do us a great honor,” King Reinhardt laughed.  “Show that Witch what it means to be a Maiden of the realm!”

“I will,” Fareeha promised.

The toast complete, the attending pages went to serving the gathered assembly. Food was heaped upon her plate, more than she’d be able to eat. But it was Thanksgiving; gluttony was expected.

“Maybe you can do more than just frustrate the Witch,” Reinhardt said to her.

“How so?”

“If she lets you out of her sight, we can use this,” her king said. “Report back to us when you can; tell us what she’s planning, how she wants to bring us to our knees.”

“You want me to spy?”

“Why not? We all know the Witch of the Wilds wants to destroy everything we hold dear.”

“But the Witch doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Did the Witch tell you that?”

“Yes, she did.”

“You need to be more careful with the Witch,” the King said in between mouthfuls of turkey leg. “She’s a tricky bitch; trust me, I’ve been forced to deal with her in the past.”

Fareeha remembered the pacts the king was forced to enter to save the realm. The pact to save the failed crops several years prior immediately came to mind, the one that provoked the Witch into attacking. Fareeha had always thought the Witch was taking advantage of them, but now she knew what the Witch thought of it.

_It’s a cliché as old as time,_ the Witch had said. _You want to make a deal with the Devil? You’ll spend every waking second trying to worm your way out of it. Everyone thinks they’re smarter than they really are, everyone always thinks they found some way to spin the pact around, everyone wants to turn nothing into something_. 

And she knew the Witch didn’t think very much of the King, having tried to get out of previous pacts.

_You claim that I always attack your realm, your castle, your king? Maybe you should look at your king and see what he did that resulted in such an action._

“Why can’t we just make another pact with her, and follow it?” Fareeha asked. “It’s working right now.”

“But what would the cost of the next pact be?” The King said. “She wanted you this time, but whom would she want for the next pact? What if she asks for one of the Fabled Four? What if she wants me? A kingdom can’t exist without a ruler. We don’t know what she wants, why she wants it, or what she might want next. No, this is the best case we have.”

“I didn’t train to be a spy.”

“So you will have to learn on the job. It shouldn’t be too hard to read a few diaries, or ask a few probing questions. Ply her with wine, she seems to like to drink.”

“You have no idea.”

“There you have it. Find out what she has in store with our kingdom, and if she’s planning an attack, you must return to us,” the King said. “Think of this as a long-term order.”

She didn’t have much of a choice. She was a Shield-Maiden, sworn to his service.

“You order, and we obey,” Fareeha said.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Reinhardt smiled. “Enough of this talk. Eat! Celebrate! Soon, you’ll have to return to the Witch. So live it up!”

That was an order that Fareeha could get behind.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a few more days?” Her mother asked.

“I don’t think so,” Fareeha said. “I have to stay true to the pact the King made, and I have new orders from him to warn you of any future attacks. It’s best if I get going now.”

Her mother wrapped her in a fierce hug.

“Will we see you for Christmas?”

“Of course I’ll be home then.”

“Thank Allah,” the Alchemist said. She broke her embrace, tears in her eye.

“We’ll miss you, kid,” the Soldier said, handing her pack to her. Fareeha had taken the chance to pack more of her clothes, as well as a couple of water bottles.

“I think of the both of you every day,” Fareeha said.

“And what of us?” Hana demanded.

“Fine, I’ll think of you a little,” Fareeha laughed. She was glad that her friends came to see her off.

Zarya stood with Mei, Lena with Emily, and Hana was practically glued to her hip.

“Keep up on your training,” she told her former apprentice.

“We could say the same to you,” Zarya smiled. “We don’t want you growing soft in the Witch’s layer.”

“Don’t worry, I plan on staying sharp.”

“That is good,” Zarya said. “Dammit, we should’ve fought to keep you, sister. We should have tried something, _anything_ rather than this nothing.”

“Thank you, it means the world to me, but this is an order from the King. We have to obey.”

Smiling, Fareeha made sure her boots were properly laced. The day after Thanksgiving had seen a few more inches of fresh snow, and she had ways to go.

“Thank you all,” she said. “I’ll miss every single one of you.”

Waving, she left her house, walking down the recently shoveled streets. She followed the streets to the clearing, and began blazing a trail through the nearly knee-deep snow. She followed the glen to the worst part of the trip: the cobblestone road. Despite the snow, the bricks were clearly marked, as well as the smothering sense of wrongness. That meant that whatever evil lived in the road was awake, and ready to pull her astray.

She made sure to have the Witch’s vellum directions. The page always seemed to lead her the right way.

“Just get this done and over with,” she mumbled, taking her first step onto the road.

It was easier walking on the cobblestone than through the snow drifts, but for some reason, Fareeha suddenly felt sapped of energy. She must’ve eaten too much, drank too much, or didn’t get enough sleep to feel this exhausted. She pressed on, waiting for whatever oily thoughts would clog her mind this time.

She soldiered on, staying in the middle of the road. She held the vellum map up to her chin, so any flapping would surly snap her out of any spell the cobblestone road put on her.

Putting one boot in front of the other was so draining. Maybe she should turn around. It wasn’t like the Witch told her to be back by a certain day; she even told her to never come back if she so desired. But she had her orders.

Fareeha stopped to catch her breath, and drink some water. This was too much. She had no idea what made her tired, but the trip down the cobblestone road just wasn’t worth it.

“Screw it,” she mumbled. At least her mother would love to have her back for another day. She turned around to walk back.

Her heart skipped a few beats. The cobblestone road behind her was gone.

The road ended a foot behind her. Beyond that point, it had turned into beaten snow covered paths, forking off into a dozen different directions. She was in the middle of the enchanted woods, and the road was disappearing just behind her.

Spinning around, she saw more and more side trails breaking off the road, more than there ever were the last few times she had walked the road. She was surrounded by dozens of side paths, and the cobblestone road seemed to be shrinking as it went on. It went from parade ground length, to only a few stones wide.

It was like the road was vanishing, and making her tired at the same time. A knot of panic began growing in her gut, worming its way through her heart.

“Just keep on going,” she told herself. But after the shock of seeing the road shrink and vanish, she just wanted to go back all the more, or to just lie down and accept whatever fate the road had in store for her.

It would be easier that way. And she was so, so tired…

The map flapped under her chin, tickling her. Somehow, Fareeha was already taking a knee to sit down. She didn’t want to do that. She leapt to her feet. It had to be the cobblestone road.

_You can still chose the right path,_ the Witch had said. _It can_ never _take your free will away, it can never make you lose on purpose. Because of that, the road has to stay clear at all times._

Yes, this was the road. This was the road messing with her head, placing its thumb on the scale. She had to be better.

Fighting against the torpor the cobblestone road was casting on her, Fareeha walked on. She followed the stones set in the ground, even when she had to drag her feet just to move. Walking was just so exhausting. She should just give up…

“I’m a Shield-Maiden,” she yelled at the empty forest. “I will not bow to this. I will not break!”

Her exhaustion quickly began to hurt. Her thighs cramped, and her feet began swelling. Forcing herself on was painful, but she had endured worse. She had to keep going.

The road shrunk even more. Soon, the road was only one stone wide, barely bigger than her feet. She held the vellum map close so it was always tickling her chin, warning her to keep her eyes open and feet on the road. And with her heavy eyelids, she needed the constant warning to keep her awake.

It felt like she was on a forced march that was lasting for centuries. Lead weights attached to her legs would be a welcome relief. But eventually, Fareeha came upon the thicket that marked the end of the road. She pulled out the Soldier’s watch; she had only been walking for an hour.

“Have to try harder than that,” she said, turning around to laugh at the road.

The road had suddenly turned back to its original form. It was clearly marked, and a dozen paces wide, like it had never shrunk away. Like her trip there had been some kind of mirage. That made her laughter catch in her throat.

And while the road was dead silent, she knew that something was growling at her. She could feel the deep, wet, animal growl in her very marrow. Something was angry at her.

Fareeha ran through the thicket, glad to be done with the hardest part of the trip. Once she was through the thicket and on her way to the Witch’s mansion, her energy began to return. The cramps in her legs faded, her feet stopped aching, and the perverse sense of wrongness began to fade. But she was still dead tired.

“Fuck that road!”

She walked through the non-cursed woods, eventually coming back to the Witch’s mansion. She walked up, passing the snow-covered Omnics, and grabbed the knocker. Her hand glowed, and the door swung open.

The Witch was sitting on a sofa in the ballroom, drinking a bottle of wine.

“Oh,” she groaned, “you came back.”

“And miss your radiant smile?”

The Witch blushed heavily and looked away, re-crossing her legs.

“Did you enjoy your time away?” The Witch said instead.

“Up until that damned cobblestone road,” Fareeha said. Even though the torpor magic the road put on her was gone, she was still exhausted. She fell on her ass trying to get her boots unlaced.

“Here.”

Fareeha looked up. The Witch walked over to her, holding a hand out.

“I’ll take your pack. You just get out of those winter clothes and onto a sofa,” the Witch said. “It looks like the road did a number on you.”

“You have no idea.”

She handed her pack to the Witch.

“Oh, Reaper?” The Witch called. From around the corner, a stream of smoke spilled along the ground. It formed a pool, and the Reaper climbed from it. “Would you mind if you took this pack to our guest’s room?”

The Reaper grunted.

“You’re free to ignore this, just like the others.”

The Reaper grunted again, taking Fareeha’s pack and walking up the stairs with it.

“You don’t want to use your magic for that?” Fareeha asked, finally winning the battle against her boot’s laces.

“I like giving him something to do, now that you’re used to seeing him around,” the Witch said, taking her jacket from her. Fareeha wanted something to do, as well.

“Why do you give him things to do?”

“Sorry, it’s part of his pact. Magician-patient privilege is in effect.”

Taking her jacket, the Witch flicked her wrist. The jacket floated to a coat rack and hung itself up.

“Here, let’s give you a hand.”

Fareeha took the Witch’s hand, and with her help, got to her feet. She trudged behind the Witch towards the closest sofa, one of the dozen that sat in the ballroom. She fell on it like a sack of bricks.

“Just stay there,” the Witch said. “I’ll get you some soup.”

“That sounds lovely,” Fareeha said, the words coming out in one drawn-out gasp. The Witch walked away, and Fareeha closed her eyes.

“Now, now, not just yet.”

Fareeha’s eyes fluttered open; she must’ve drifted off. The Witch was holding a big bowl of soup in front of her. Pillows floated behind her. When Fareeha sat up, the pillows flew forward, placing themselves under her to prop her up.

“Chicken-noodle soup,” the Witch smiled radiantly. “Good for both the body, as well as the soul.”

“Which chicken paid the price for becoming dinner?” Fareeha asked, taking the bowl. It was a hefty earthen bowl, hand-made, and heavily glazed. In her exhaustion, it felt nearly unbearably heavy.

“Don’t worry about the chickens,” the Witch laughed. She waved her hand, and a second sofa floated over to her. She sat down, next to Fareeha.

“I’m still surprised you have an entire farm in your backyard,” Fareeha said. She took a mouthful of soup, and couldn’t believe how good it was. “Did you put any magic in this?”

“No, just good old fashioned hand-made soup,” the Witch said. “I can’t exactly go to the market, so I have to grow everything here. And I never use magic when I cook; what’s the fun in it?”

“This has to be magic,” Fareeha said around a mouthful. “This is so good!”

“Believe me, it’s not,” the Witch laughed. Fareeha wanted to hear laugh again. It sounded like a beautifully made wind chime. “But thank you. I don’t get many people to cook for.”

“The Reaper doesn’t eat?”

“Oh, he does. He east souls.”

“Part of his curse?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Magician-patient privilege?”

“Exactly,” the Witch smiled.

“And he just helps out around the farm?”

“The Reaper needs things to do. That’s as much as I can tell you,” the Witch said. She raised her hand, and a bottle of wine flew to it. But she didn’t drink heavily from it, she merely sipped it. “Which is good for me. Farming is a full-time job. Before the Reaper, most of my time was spent out there. Even with magic, it takes time to do everything.”

“I bet. Farmers work harder than us soldiers.”

“That I can attest to. Did you see the barn?”

“Of course I saw the barn. I saw the Reaper milking the cows!”

The Witch laughed again. Fareeha could feel her spirits lift.

“He actually really like the cows,” she said. “They’re so friendly, they don’t care about his appearance. Did you like the horses?”

“You have horses?”

“I thought you saw the barn.”

“I did, but seeing the Reaper milking cows…”

“It must’ve been a surprise,” the Witch laughed. “I have a few stallions and mares. A long time ago, I tried to be a horse breeder, but it didn’t hold my attention. Now I just have a few because they’re good companions, and I have a weak point for riding them. Do the Maidens still teach horseback riding?”

“Of course.”

“Then would you like to join me and go on a ride?”

“Would I? It’s been forever since I’ve gone horseback riding.”

“Then we’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

“That won’t be for a while,” Fareeha said, setting the empty bowl down. “I’m dead tired.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

She liked hearing that. The Witch carried over a blanket while Fareeha punched up the pillows.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“You’re most certainly welcome,” the Witch smiled back.

Fareeha was drifting off to sleep the second she laid her head down. She was supposed to be spying on the Witch, but she never expected to be so friendly with her, and she never expected the Witch to serve her soup in bed. She wasn’t supposed to be flirting or anything.

No, she wasn’t flirting, she told herself as she drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t that she liked the Witch or anything, she just had a little crush; she’s had plenty of crushes before. It was just like all the others she had, it would go away.

 

* * *

 

Dressed for the cold in her borrowed winter coat, Fareeha pushed the doors to the barn open. To the right were stalls where the cows stood, and sure enough, to the left there were stalls that held horses.

There were five of them, all massive. Fareeha gasped. The Witch didn’t have any kind of horses; she had destriers, horses fit for war.

“What kind of horse breeding were you into?” She asked. 

“Just horse breeding,” the Witch said, following her in. She was dressed in a large red coat to block out the winter. “I got a few horses from a king in a pact, so they were large horses to begin with.”

“We didn’t give you any horses.”

“Yes, but this is going back a long time. And there are other kingdoms out there. They’re far away, yes, but they’re there.”

Behind the Witch, the Reaper walked in. Unlike Fareeha and the Witch, he didn’t wear any heavy winter weather clothes, wearing his customary black coat. But the cold didn’t seem to bother him. He went to where the hay was stocked, and grabbing a pitchfork, began passing some out to the horses.

“Thank you, Reaper,” the Witch said.

The Reaper grunted.

“Thankful fellow,” Fareeha said.

“Don’t mind him, he likes this work.”

“He seems to like any work.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

Fareeha walked up to one horse, a gorgeous chestnut with a deep, rich black mane.

“That’s Edward,” the Witch said.

“Is he a gelding?”

“No, a stallion. I do have a few mares, though.”

“I thought you said you weren’t into horse breeding anymore.”

“I’m not, but I can’t find it in me to get rid of them. And they have their own needs, so…”

Fareeha had an apple in her pocket she took from breakfast. She held it out, and Edward happily snorted, taking the apple and chewing it up.

“Is he hard to ride?”

“Not at all. These horses have very good tempers.”

“I’d like to take him out.”

“By all means. He seems to be taken with you.”

“First time I actually liked a man’s attention!” Fareeha laughed as Edward nuzzled her.

The Reaper walked over, carrying a heavy leather saddle. Fareeha opened the stall door for him, half expecting Edward to react to the black-clad creature. But seeing the Reaper milk cows must’ve made him a common sight. Edward didn’t fear the Reaper; he didn’t jump or even so much as twitch as the Reaper set the saddle on his back.

“Thank you,” Fareeha said, taking the reins.

The Reaper grunted.

Placing her feet in the stirrup, she climbed up. It might’ve been years since she rode horseback in the Maidens, but it all came back to her. Gently urging Edward on, he trotted out of his stall. The Witch was waiting for her on a black haired horse.

“What’s his name?” Fareeha asked.

“She, actually,” the Witch said. “And her name is Sabrina.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

“I was talking to Sabrina,” Fareeha wolfishly smiled. “But I guess Sabrina _is_ a good horse.”

Blushing heavily, the Witch urged Sabrina forward, shooting out of the barn. Laughing, Fareeha followed her outside. She didn’t like the Witch or anything, in was just a crush.

The winter was mellowing out. The weather wasn’t bitterly cold, but rather a good temperature to keep the snow being snow, instead of turning into frozen ice or slush. There was barely any wind blowing in from the forests. Fareeha took a second to enjoy the scenery of the massive, hidden farm and the snow-covered mansion. It was picturesque. She wish she had a camera.

The Witch didn’t wait for her. She was trotting ahead of her, and seemed to be gaining speed.

“Guess we better catch up with her,” she said to Edward. Snorting, Edward was too eager to catch up. “Too modest for a compliment?”

“Do you want to go for a ride or not?” The Witch frostily replied. But Fareeha could see a blush on her cheeks. “I can always turn around.”

“I’m the guest here. Please, show me the way.”

Going at an easy trot, the Witch led Fareeha into the woods. There was a small path; if it wasn’t for the Witch, Fareeha would’ve missed it. They trotted through the snow of the enchanted woods, taking in the snow-covered trees. Fareeha again wished she had a camera.

“Do you ever get bored of this?” Fareeha asked.

“I might take it for granted every so often,” the Witch said, “but no. The woods are always a welcome refuge.”

They trotted on in peaceful silence. Fareeha wanted to talk to the Witch, but something about the ride just made her want to be quiet, alone with the Witch. A part of her wanted the Witch to be comfortable alone with her, too.

Eventually, the path broke through the woods to a massive clearing with rolling hills. Fareeha gasped. The hills were covered in virgin snow. It was like they were riding into a painting. The Witch came to a stop, and Fareeha pulled up next to her.

“This is wonderful,” Fareeha said.

“You should see this in spring,” the Witch said. “The hills are alive with all manner of wildflowers. It’s a giant palette of color.”

“At the order of my King, I am here forever,” Fareeha said. “Can you show me this when the spring comes?”

“Again, you don’t have to stay here. You’re not a prisoner; you can leave whenever you want to.”

“But I like needling you,” Fareeha smiled. “Like how you got all flustered when I called you beautiful.”

“Why is that?” The Witch asked, fighting a blush.

“Just seeing the Witch of the Wilds fumble and fidget is fun! You’re really not that scary as you make yourself out to be.”

The Witch raised her hand, and a mound of snow lifted itself off the ground. It flung itself at Fareeha, but she was already moving, wheeling Edward around with a laugh at her lips. With a gentle prod, Edward shot off, carrying her across the hills.

Hoofs pounded the ground behind her; the Witch was following her. Fareeha urged Edward on, and he shot forward.

A blob of snow sailed over her head. She was using her magic to throw snowballs at Fareeha.

“No fair,” Fareeha yelled. “You’ve got your magic!”

“This isn’t supposed to be fair,” the Witch yelled back, summoning another snowball from the ground.

She might be rusty, and destriers were no longer used as war horses, but by tradition Shield-Maidens needed to know how to ride. And with horseback riding came a few tricks. Kicking one of her feet out of the stirrup, she threw herself over Edward.

The Witch yelped, but Fareeha had a strong grip on the reins as well as having her other foot in the other stirrup. She caught herself, nearly falling off poor Edward, but she had enough reach to stick her hand down and grab a handful of snow. She pulled herself back up to the proper riding position, and made a quick snowball.

She threw it behind her, and was glad to see it hit the Witch on the chest.

“Got you!” She roared, nudging Edward into a sprint. Not a second later, the Witch raised both her hands, summoning several dozen snowballs from the ground.

“Oh shit.”

Edward snorted, loving the run. But Fareeha was gripping the reins tight as she urged him to and fro in a serpentine pattern. Snowballs flew all around her. She dodged many, but a few hit her in the back.

“This isn’t fair!” She cried.

One snowball hit her upside her head, sending her sprawling. The ground came up, and she hit the snow, flipping over herself a few times.

Fortunately, she fell into a drift, and the snow was deep and soft. The fall didn’t hurt, but it did shake her up. Behind her, she heard the Witch yelp.

Fareeha couldn’t face the Witch on horseback; she could always summon snowballs, and she didn’t need her hands to do it. An idea popped into Fareeha’s head: it would be better to fight her on the ground. So she stayed prone, limbs splayed about from the fall.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry!” The Witch cried. Fareeha could hear Sabrina coming to a stop, and the Witch jumping down. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t want to hurt you!”

Fareeha was glad she was face-down in the snow; she was grinning from her ambush plan.

The Witch ran over to her, and gently rolled her over. Fareeha had a handful of snow, and gently shoved it into the Witch’s face.

“Ha! Vengeance is mine!” She cried as the Witch fell backwards, flat on her ass.

Red in the face, the Witch spat out the snow.

“You tricked me,” she sputtered.

“It worked, too!”

The Witch raised her hands, and an entire drift of snow lifted itself up off the ground. It cast a shadow over both Fareeha and the Witch. Panicking, Fareeha started throwing snow at the Witch as fast as she could. Many of the snow clumps fell apart in the air, but they still showered the Witch with at least a little snow.

Then the Witch threw the entire snowdrift at her. It was like being hit in the face with a massive, cold, down pillow. Fareeha was quickly buried.

“Was it worth it?!” The Witch spat. But as angry as she was, Fareeha could hear her smile.

“Yes,” Fareeha laughed, digging herself out of the drift. “Yes, it was.”


	9. Three Weeks to Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Witch shows Fareeha around her mansion, but Fareeha makes an unexpected discovery.

Life in the Witch’s mansion had once again fell into a familiar, comfortable rhythm.

Fareeha woke up and rolled out of bed. With the winter in full swing, she couldn’t do much running to stay in shape; instead she went through her calisthenics routine. Once she was done, she took a quick shower, and dressed.

She thought she would have to dress heavily for the winter; with such a large mansion, Fareeha was dead certain that there would be plenty of cold that would leak in. But she had forgotten about the Witch’s magic. The entire mansion was pleasantly warm, which made her feel a little foolish that she hauled so many long-sleeve shirts and hoodies back with her.

Still, it was comforting to wear her Shield-Maiden’s hoodie. It was embroidered with a massive chest of the Maidens, and was impossibly comfortable. She walked down to the kitchen, where the Witch was cooking breakfast. Or rather, her magic was cooking while she sat off to the side, her nose in a book. Like Fareeha, she wore a long-sleeved sweatshirt, but it seemed to be a thinner material, like it was to be used as a fashion layer instead of to keep her truly warm. It looked good on her.

The Reaper walked into the kitchen, nearly gliding on a cloud of shadows, a small basket in his gauntleted hands. He set eggs on the table, fresh from the hen house, which then rose in the air, cracking themselves over a hot cast iron pan. A fork would scramble them, while spices and cheese added themselves to the dish.

“How are the hens?” The Witch asked.

“Good,” the Reaper said.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Fareeha wondered why the Witch always asked the Reaper that. It was like he had the option of saying ‘no,’ but never did.

“I am.”

“I’m glad,” the Witch smiled. “If you want, you can go about your chores.”

Grunting, the Reaper walked away. Fareeha realized she let the Reaper brush by her. She used to be scared of the undead murderer, but now she felt comfortable around him. That sent shivers down her spine.

“Are you cold?” The Witch asked. “I can turn the heat up, if you’d like.”

“No thank you. It’s just…I still can’t believe you have the Reaper waiting on you hand and foot.”

“All part of his pact.”

Fareeha sad down at the table.

“Where are my manners? Good morning, Witch.”

“And a good morning to you, my darling houseguest,” the Witch smiled. A glass of orange juice floated in front of Fareeha, followed by a plate of eggs.

Fareeha saw that the Witch was having her usual hair-of-the-dog, but this time it was a small glass of wine. Normally she had a large glass, or even a bottle.

“I know what you’re doing,” the Witch said.

“Doing what?” Fareeha asked, digging into her breakfast.

“You’re cleaning. I know what you’re planning with that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Do you now?”

“I don’t,” Fareeha said. The Witch was giving her a hard glare. “I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you, I’m just normally a clean person.”

“And you think that gives you carte blanche to go about my mansion, doing what you will with it?”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Allah, I should’ve asked,” Fareeha said, blushing. “I shouldn’t have assumed, I just…things weren’t tidy, I thought you’d like having a clean mansion.”

“And if you so happened to fall upon something you shouldn’t have known about…?”

“I’m not snooping,” Fareeha said. Then she remembered her King’s orders.

Now was _not_ the time to even think about that.

“I’m really not, I just like to clean. It helps me think. Would you mind if I keep cleaning? I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

The Witch looked at her. Fareeha looked her in the eyes, and the Witch held her gaze for a few seconds, but blinked and looked away.

“Well, this place _does_ need some cleaning. And if you’re going to insist on cleaning,” she said, “I’d best tell you where you shouldn’t go.”

“There are dangerous parts of the mansion?”

“I’m the Witch of the Wilds. I do keep a few strange things here,” she laughed. “But none that are immediately dangerous. Hell, I hardly keep anything that is outright fatal. But it’s best to be cautious when dealing with magic. If you’re done with your breakfast, I’ll show you a few places for you to avoid.”

“Not a problem,” Fareeha said, finishing her eggs. She was going to take the plate over to the crowded countertop, but the Witch waved her hands, and the dishes floated away.

Now that she finished every part of the second floor, maybe the kitchen would be a good place to start.

Refilling her glass, the Witch led her to the massive stairwell. Fareeha followed her like a puppy up to the second floor landing, then rounded the landing and began walking to the third.

“Now that I think about it, I’ve never been past the second floor,” Fareeha said. “How many floors are there?”

“Just four.”

“’Just four?’ Damn, this place seems like it’ll be at least six floors.”

They walked up to the fourth floor, and the Witch turned down the hallway. Fareeha did a double-take.

“Is—is the hallway curving?”

“It is,” the Witch said. “It curves around, looping to the other side.”

The Witch pointed to the other end of the hallway, where the long passageway curved again. It seemed that the hallway was a giant circle.

“But that’s not possible. The mansion doesn’t go out that far. This hallway is bigger on the inside than the mansion is on the outside. Wait, the hallways on the second and third floor are too big for the mansion. Is…is this entire place bigger on the inside? How…?”

“Magic, my darling houseguest,” the Witch said in a sing-song voice.

Fareeha suddenly wanted her to sing that again. It made her weak in the knees.

“Oh, I can show off!” The Witch said.

She made a show of rolling up her long sleeves, to show Fareeha that she had nothing in her hands. With a great flourish, she waved her hands in front of each other, and suddenly a rubber ball appeared in her hand, like it was a slight-of-hand trick instead of actual magic.

“You’ve wanted to do that for a while, haven’t you?” Fareeha laughed. But she couldn’t help but clap.

“Guilty as charged,” the Witch laughed, taking a bow.

The Witch rolled the ball down the hallway. It rolled, and rolled, and rolled…Fareeha realized it was rolling under it’s own power as it followed the curve of the hallway.

“Wait for it,” the Witch said, pointing to the other end of the hallway.

About twenty seconds later, the ball appeared at the other end of the hallway, rolling back to them.

“So the hallway does connect,” Fareeha said, clapping as the Witch picked up the rubber ball.

“That it does,” she said. The Witch held the ball in an upturned palm, then brought her other hand down on top of it; the ball vanished. “It’s one big loop. Fortunately, we don’t have to walk very far.”

The Witch stopped in front of a large double oak door. It looked like the kind that would belong at the front of a house, not squirrelled away in an impossible looping hallway.

“What’s dangerous about this?”

“Open it.”

Fareeha glared at the Witch. A wide smile sat on her full lips.

“ _Now_ you’re messing with me.”

“I am,” the Witch laughed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t get a chance to show this off.”

“I won’t die?”

“Not at all.”

“I won’t get hurt?”

“Nothing bad will happen to you if you open that door. I swear on both the Old Gods, and the New.”

If she was invoking the Old Gods, she must be serious.

“Then why tell me this is a dangerous door?”

“Because it is.”

“What was that part of the poem you told me? ‘Certain lines can’t be uncrossed…?’”

“’Certain maps will get you lost,’” the Witch finished. “I’m so glad you remembered that.”

“So what would this count as?”

“Nothing. It’s what’s on the other side that things become complicated.”

Fareeha glared death at the Witch. But she couldn’t stay made when such a radiant smile on her lips.

“Go ahead,” the Witch smiled. “Open it.”

It was an order she couldn’t refuse, not that she wanted to. Fareeha cautiously opened the door. There wasn’t a room behind the door, but rather a hallway.

A hallway that ran so far out, Fareeha couldn’t see the end of it.

She couldn’t be seeing this right. Fareeha rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Sure enough, the hallway was there. Bland, whitewashed walls ran down the hallway. There were no lights, but somehow, the entire span was evenly lit. The hallway seemed endless; the two walls just ran out until they merged into a single dot somewhere far out beyond the horizon.

“W-what the…?”

“Insane, isn’t it?” The Witch laughed.

“What the hell is this?”

“A hallway,” she said. “One that is between the worlds, leading to everywhere and nowhere.”

“I’d like it if you’d stop speaking in riddles,” Fareeha groaned. “I’m getting a headache looking at this.”

“I don’t mean to talk riddles, but that’s exactly what this hallway is,” the Witch said. “It leads to parts of this world and many other worlds. Look down there.”

Fareeha followed where the Witch was pointing. Far down the hallway, maybe three hundred yards away, she saw a speck against the wall.

“Is that a door?” She asked.

“It is. And it leads somewhere.”

“You can’t tell me where?”

“No, because I don’t know where it leads,” the Witch admitted. “The hallway changes. Sometimes, there are doors closer to this one. Othertimes, there aren’t any doors at all; just an endless hallway.”

“What kind of magic made this door?”

“Very powerful, very old magic.”

“Can you do this? Make something like this?”

“Of course. Fortunately, there’s not much of a need. Earlier Witches of the Wilds made this mansion, and made all the magic that holds both this and other worlds up. It was made to keep the other worlds separate from this one, and vice versa.”

“’Other worlds?’ There are worlds other than ours?”

“You didn’t think we were the only world in existence, did you?”

“Then what kind of worlds are there?”

“An infinite amount,” the Witch said. “It gets very confusing, so I have to take some liberties to keep it short. There are worlds where you are taller, worlds where you are shorter, worlds where you married a man, shit, there are even worlds where you _are_ a man! Infinite worlds for an infinite amount of possibilities.”

“And this hallway leads to them? No wonder it’s endless.”

“Yes and no.” Fareeha glared at the Witch. “I’m sorry, but it’s very complicated.”

She wanted to yell at the Witch to stop smiling. It made it hard to concentrate.

“Want to try it out?” The Witch grinned.

“Oh no, I’m not setting foot in this hallway!”

“A good reaction, but the best part is yet to come. Come on.”

And with that, the Witch took a few steps into the hallway. She didn’t die, she didn’t burst into flames, nothing happened.

“Trust me, we’re safe for the time. Now follow me, but be sure to keep the door open,” the Witch said, holding her hand out.

The Witch told her to, and Fareeha couldn’t say no. Gritting her teeth, Fareeha took her hand, and stepped into the hallway.

Nothing happened.

“So far, so good,” she mumbled.

“Try running.”

“What?”

“Just run. You won’t get very far, trust me.”

Fareeha broke into a light jog. Every few seconds, she’d turn around to see how far she went, but the Witch was always by her side. And she was standing still!

“What the hell is this?”

“Run. Go for it,” the Witch laughed.

She broke into a dead sprint. Sweat soon dotted her forehead and she was breathing deeply. Fareeha had to run for nearly a full minute. She stopped to catch her breath, and nearly jumped out of her skin when the Witch tapped her shoulder. Even though she was running at top speed, she never moved an inch.

“See? Didn’t get very far,” she grinned.

“What the hell is this?”

“A kind of safety measure,” the Witch said. “If you know where you want to go, you’ll get there. But you have to be specific. With an infinite number of worlds, it’s too easy to get lost.”

“So this is an endless hallway, but it’s is impossible to use unless you know where to go.”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds like a good safety net.”

“More like an extremely lucky break,” the Witch said. “That hallway contains a _vast_ amount of magic. We’re lucky it doesn’t have a mind of its own.”

“What do you mean, ‘a mind of its own?’”

“If you put enough magic into an item, it develops a mind of its own.”

“Then why doesn’t this hall ‘have a mind of its own?’”

“It has more magic in it than anything else in this world, but it also connects to the infinite number of worlds that exist,” the Witch said. “It doesn’t matter how much magic it has, it is always compared to infinity, and in comparison, any number is smaller than infinity.

“But for items that have a finite amount of presence, enough magic will give them their own characteristics. It’s best to show you. This way.”

After the endless hallway, the curving hallway seemed quaint. They came upon another massive set of double doors. But these doors were twice the size of the last ones, and had regal woodcarvings all over the doors and door frame.

“Is this where we’re going?” Fareeha asked.

“That’s my room,” the Witch said. “I’d like it if you would not enter it.”

“Does it have anything dangerous?”

“No, but it’s my room. I like my privacy.”

Fareeha couldn’t fault her for that. They kept walking, until they came to a door with a large, cast iron lock on it.

“Is _this_ dangerous?”

“One thing is terribly dangerous. But the other is an oddity.”

“That’s why it’s locked up?”

“Exactly. But remember what I said about locked doors?”

“There’s no door that’s locked to me?”

“Precisely,” the Witch smiled. “If you do the honors?”

Fareeha couldn’t keep her hand from trembling. She reached out and grabbed the knob. Her palm glowed, and with a deep, satisfying ‘clunk,’ the door unlocked and opened.

Inside were two massive objects. One was a mirror, with a beautifully hand-carved wooden frame. Much like the doors to the Witch’s room, there were intricate details along the frame. Scrolls rolled and unrolled, fantastic beasts perched and flew, and trees sprouted and grew.

The other thing was covered in a heavy sheet. The sheet was pulled taunt against the surface, like it was glued in place.

“Never, ever, _ever_ remove that sheet,” the Witch said. The tone in her voice was dire. “Treat it as you would the cobblestone road. No, treat it _worse_ than the cobblestone road; the cobblestone road gives you a chance to pass it without danger. This will kill you where you stand.”

“What is it?”

“The Oculus,” the Witch said, pointing to the covered mirror. She gestured to other massive mirror. “And this is its sister, the Ocular. Both are examples of when too much magic is used, the item develops a mind of their own.

“The Oculus was supposed to show us Witches the most dire threat that faced the world. An early-warning system, if you will. It was to look into the future, and to do that, it needed a lot of magic. There’s no easy way to quantify it.

“But when you get to a certain point of infusing magic with something, it tends to develop its own mind. The Oculus shows you the most dire of threats, yes, but it then makes those threats real. It pulls monsters from the future, and not just this future. It reaches to the dark places between the worlds, where the _real_ monsters are, monsters like the one that made the cobblestone road, and it throws them at you.”

“And a sheet keeps all that locked away?” Fareeha gasped.

“Of course. It’s just a mirror.”

“A magic mirror that summons eldritch horrors!”

“But a mirror none-the-less,” the Witch laughed. “Granted, the sheet is magic as well, but it’s simple magic. It keeps it covered, and keeps it from uncovering itself.”

“Why the fuck do you keep it around?”

“Because we can’t destroy it,” the Witch sighed. “Many have tried; gods know I’ve tried plenty of times myself. But magic that strong simply can’t be broken. I’m still looking for a way to break it, but it looks like it’s destruction is beyond the Witches of the Wilds for the time. Fortunately, the Ocular doesn’t have the same problem.”

“Oh, that only shows you how you die, as opposed to killing you?” Fareeha snorted.

“If you want it to.”

“I was joking.”

“I’m not,” the Witch laughed. “The Ocular shows you whatever you want to see. It was made at the same time as the Oculus, but it was made to show one how to defeat the monsters that threatened the world.”

“So the Oculus was to warn you, and the Ocular was how to save yourself?”

“Exactly! Only thing is, the same amount of magic went into the Ocular as the Oculus, and because of that, it gained a mind of its own.”

“What’s the catch with this one?”

“Try it out. I guarantee you, it won’t kill you.”

“I’m trusting you here,” Fareeha mumbled. She stood in front of the Ocular. Even though the mirror was massive, it was a clean, blemish free. But Fareeha never saw her reflection. She only saw a darkened mirror. There wasn’t even a single speck of dust on it.

“Now, tell the mirror what you want to see,” the Witch said.

“I want to see my mother.”

Nothing happened. Fareeha cleared her throat.

“I want to see my mother.”

Still, nothing happened.

“My mother,” she said, aggravation creeping into her voice, “I want to see her.”

The mirror sat there, doing nothing.

“Ah-hem. Mirror, mirror, on the…floor, show me my mother, from her door.”

The Witch laughed at that, but the mirror did nothing. Fareeha couldn’t help but blush at the terrible rhyme.

“Are you sure this is working?” She asked, turning to the Witch.

“Of course,” the Witch said, taking a sip of wine. “But when the Ocular became self-aware, it became one persnickety bitch.”

Smoke pooled in the Ocular, swirling and blowing, until it formed a giant, gaseous middle finger.

“See?” The Witch laughed. “Persnickety.”

The finger vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving the Ocular a dark mirror once again.

“Then how do you use it?”

“You have to be extremely specific,” the Witch said. “More specific than with the endless hallway. You can’t just know how to properly word the question, you have to know _what_ question you want the Ocular to answer. Sometimes, it doesn’t want to answer you because you don’t truly want to know the answer.”

“You’re right, this thing is persnickety.”

“Go ahead, try a few more times,” the Witch laughed.

“My mother is Ana Amari,” Fareeha said to the Ocular. “She is a Shield-Maiden to King Reinhardt of the House Wilhelm, sworn defender of the realm and crown king of the Andals. She is known as the Alchemist.”

Still, the mirror did nothing.

“Does this even work?”

“Of course it does.”

“Then can you show me?”

The Witch was quiet for several seconds. Looking back, Fareeha could see the Witch’s face grow hard, as if she was reliving some dark moment.

“Uh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to—“

“No, it’s important that you see how precise you have to be with your question,” the Witch said. Any trace of humor had evaporated, leaving her with the same brutal edge to her voice that she had when Fareeha was given to her in the graveyard. “You need to see, and I need to be reminded. Here.”

She handed Fareeha her wine glass, and gently but firmly pushed her aside.

“Show me the exact moment where I cease to be the Witch of the Wilds,” she said to the mirror.

Smoke poured in from the sides of the mirror. They formed swirling whorls, and from them, an image appeared. It was the Witch herself, lying to the ground with her back turned to her real-life counterpart.

But it wasn’t the same Witch. While the real Witch had long golden hair reaching to the small of her back, the Witch in the Ocular had hers cut short, like someone hacked it to length with a sword. The Mirror Witch’s cloths were in tatters, and was bleeding from a dozen little cuts; Fareeha even spied a gunshot wound on her shoulder.

Then fire formed. There was fire all around her, but mostly in the foreground. However, far in the background, was a massive stake; cords of wood were stacked around it. It was a stake to burn the Witch. There were figures surrounding the stake; dozens carried lit torches.

Smoke continued to fill the mirror, until it formed a massive figure wearing armor and carrying an equally massive war hammer. Fareeha’s breath caught in her throat; it was King Reinhardt, girded for war, and standing triumphant over the fallen Witch.

The image floated on the mirror for a handful of seconds, then it vanished. The Witch walked back to Fareeha.

“That’s why I wanted to end this whole farce on All Hallows’ Eve,” she said, taking her glass back. “The Ocular is never wrong; it’s magic is too strong to be wrong. No matter what I do, I will stop being the Witch of the Wilds and at the mercy of your king. And then I’ll undoubtedly die.”

Fareeha was still staring at the Ocular. She was too stunned to move.

“But your fucking king had to pull a fast one,” she sighed. “Well, maybe I’ll come up with an even _more_ ridiculous task next year, and we can finally get this over with.”

“Why?” Fareeha gasped. “Why do you want this to happen?”

“Because I’m tired of everything,” the Witch said, draining her wine in one gulp. “I’m tired of being the Witch, of being the one who’s curse and spat at. I’m tired of being the villain. But your realm, fuck, _every_ realm wants me to be the wicked heel, the one they spit at and scorn. They need me to be the villain. I know how this all plays out, and I’d very much like to skip to the end. Face it, my darling houseguest, no one mourns wicked. Damn, I need more wine.”

The Witch walked towards the door. Fareeha was still rooted in her place.

“There’s not much else that’s immediately dangerous to you,” the Witch called. “Just close the door and don’t you fucking dare touch the Oculus.”

She left Fareeha standing in the room, too stunned to move.

“But…but I’d mourn you.”

The Witch didn’t hear her. She was already going down the supernaturally looping hallway, and Fareeha barely spoke above a whisper. She didn’t even hear herself say it.


	10. Christmastide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha accidentally makes a surprising discovery about the Witch, just before she goes home for Christmas.  
> But even when she's among friends and family, her mind keeps drifting back to a certain blonde somebody.

Fareeha walked into the kitchen. As usual, the Witch sat at the table, reading a book. Since showing Fareeha the endless hallway, the Oculus, and the Ocular, the Witch had gone back to drinking full bottles of wine for breakfast.

“You have enough wine there?” Fareeha asked with an easy smile, trying to lighten the Witch’s mood.

“I have enough wine to last decades,” she frostily replied. “And enough grapes in the farm to make wine forever.”

Damn. It still sounded like she was still on the Witch’s shit list. Either that, or the Witch was still out of it.

_I suffer from a severe case of melancholy. It flares up every so often._

Fareeha walked to the larder and got herself some eggs to make a cheese omelet. Once it was made, she quickly cleaned up after herself, setting the clean dishes in the massive sink’s drying rack. They were the only things that were actually clean in the kitchen.

She wanted to clean the kitchen, but the Witch had spent the days drinking and moping about in the kitchen and ballroom/living room. Fareeha suddenly found it painful to see the Witch drowning in such melancholy, both metaphorically and, in the case of wine, literally. So with a lack of better things to do, she had started cleaning the third floor.

“So, Christmas is coming in a few days,” she said, sitting down.

“Like it does every damn year.”

“I’d like to go back to town. My mother would want me home for the holidays.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” the Witch sighed. “You can leave any time you want. You can even stay home.”

“But I like needling you,” Fareeha smiled.

The Witch groaned, but Fareeha could see a slight blush at her cheeks. It would be the best she could do.

“So I started working on the third floor,” she said.

“I could see.”

“There are a lot of libraries and studies.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I even found a room dedicated to holding cigars. I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Every so often. I picked it up from an earlier Witch who was a true aficionado.”

“I see.”

Fareeha could tell that the Witch wanted to be left alone, so she held her peace. When she was finished eating, she washed the rest of her dishes, and walked out of the kitchen. She was starting to clean the third floor, and was making good headway.

Walking through the ballroom, she spied a new stack of books on a full table. The Witch was still reading in the kitchen, and Fareeha never once asked what she was reading.

She peeked around the corner. The Witch sat at the table, drinking and reading. Well, it wasn’t so much as spying or sneaking about; she just wanted to know what the Witch was reading. She was just curious.

Fareeha looked over the stack of books. Many were beautifully leather bound, their covers written by hand in a language that Fareeha couldn’t place. They must be part of the Witch’s library of grimoires. But one book caught her attention. The cover was faded, the pages yellowed; it reminded Fareeha of a paperback. It had a worn out title, written in flowery, showy cursive, but was just clear enough to read.

_A First Contact._

Fareeha flipped open the book and read a passage at random.

 

_“We shouldn’t.”_

_“Why? Are there rules against this in your army?”_

_“Y-yes, it’s called fraternization.”_

_Garrus chuckled, pulling Shepard closer._

_“Fancy word. In our armed forces, we call it ‘team building.’ We have higher operational discipline, but fewer personal restrictions. We know when to let off steam. ”_

_“Garrus,” Shepard gasped._

_“Yes…?”_

_“I…it’s nothing. I just need to get back to prepare for the mission.”_

_“We_ are _preparing,” Garrus said. “Having nerves throws your aim off. This does more than take the edge off. I ever tell you about the time I went toe-to-toe with a recon scout? I had reach…but she had flexibility.”_

_Garrus was an alien to Shepard. Everything about him was strange. But the way he held Shepard, everything felt right. And when they kissed…_

 

Fareeha snapped the book shut. The Witch of the Wilds, the most feared woman in the world, was reading romance novels? And _trashy_ romance novels at that?! It was too much. She had to bite her tongue, lest she break out laughing.

An idea suddenly flitted into the back of Fareeha’s mind. She might not be able to cure the Witch of her melancholy, but she knew what to get her for Christmas.

 

* * *

 

Bundled up for the cold, Fareeha stood in front of the cobblestone road. Despite the snow in the forest, the road was perfectly clear. That meant the monster that made it would tempt her. The wrongness of the road was already poisoning her gut.

“Fuck you, I’ll make it through,” she muttered.

She might talk tough, but she was shaking all the while. Fareeha tried to ignore the beating of her heart. She was a Shield-Maiden. She was better than this.

“Turn back.”

That made Fareeha jump. It was the Witch.

“Just turn back,” the Witch said. “The King doesn’t want you. Why else did he so freely give you to me?”

She pushed on, clutching the vellum map tightly.

“Your mother abandoned you,” the Witch said. Fareeha spun around, but the road was empty. “She gave you away, just like the King did.”

Adjusting her empty pack, Fareeha ran down the road. The road twisted and turned, like it was adding distance for her to run. It had to be the cobblestone road, it just had to be. The Witch was never this cruel.

“Your mother didn’t care for you. She abandoned you. Just like she did to your father.”

That made Fareeha trip. She hit the ground hard, but pushed herself back up just as fast.

“Ah, hit a nerve there, did I?” The Witch laughed. “You never had the chance to know your father, did you? Your _real_ father. But you know your mother gave him up. Did you always suspect she’d give you up, too?”

She was running and crying, doing her best to stay on the road.

“Yes, you did always suspect that, did you?” The Witch said.

It wasn’t the Witch of the Wilds that was talking, even though it sounded just like her.

“Always had to prove yourself worthy of her love. Always had to work for that limited love. It was never freely given; you had to earn it all, didn’t you? Is that why you joined the Shield-Maidens? To follow in her footsteps, to prove yourself worthy of her love?

“She shouldn’t have bothered loving you. She gave you away all the same.”

Fareeha tripped again, and fell roughly. She was off the road. She was off it. She had to get back on it, she had to keep moving…

She broke through a thin layer of ice, and freezing cold water ran down her jacket. She screamed in shock, then realized she was in the glen. She had passed the cobblestone road.

Her heart still pushed pure terror through her veins. She ran down the glen, through the clearing, and through the village. She didn’t stop until she came to her house.

Her mother loved her, she knew she did. She knew…

And yet, she never knew her true father. The words echoed in her head.

The Alchemist opened the door, and Fareeha broke down, engulfing her mother in a fierce hug.

“My girl, my poor girl,” her mother gasped.

“M-mother…”

“Yes dear? What did that Witch do to you?”

“Do you love me?”

“What? Such a stupid question, I love you with every shred of my being. I love you more than life itself.”

Crying from the terror the cobblestone road put in her, she held onto her mother. They both sat on the floor of the house, ignoring the open door and the cold that blew in.

 

* * *

 

Her mother passed her a cup of tea. Fareeha’s hands still shook as she picked it up.

“What did that damned Witch do to you?” She said with cold fury.

“It wasn’t the Witch,” Fareeha mumbled. “It…getting here, getting home, is a challenge. Every time I go home, I have to go down a damned road.”

“What is this road?” The Soldier asked.

Fareeha wanted to tell them, but the fear it put in her chest didn’t let her.

“Fareeha, please,” her mother begged.

She shook her head. She couldn’t talk about it, not now.

“You should stay here,” her mother said. “Forget the Witch. Stay with us.”

“I’ll talk to the King,” the Soldier said. He should’ve been her true father. “These trips are getting too much for you. I’ve seen how shaken you are when you get back, no one can do this forever.”

Fareeha nodded her thanks. The tea helped sooth her.

“And now you’re in a state like this, and it’s Christmas Eve!” Her mother said. “What a damned woman that Witch is.”

“It wasn’t the Witch,” Fareeha mumbled.

“We were supposed to join the King for the Christmas Eve feast.”

“I think we can sit this out,” the Soldier said. “Christmas Eve is for families. We’ll go to the feast tomorrow; I’m sure the king would understand.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Ana said. “We need this for ourselves. As a family.”

“I’d like that,” Fareeha smiled.

“I’ll tell the King,” the Soldier said, getting up. “You  just stay there and relax.”

“Actually, I’d like to walk around a bit.”

“Fareeha, you just came back to us,” her mother protested.

“I…I just…the trip here, it scared me.”

“It terrified you!”

“Yes, but I just need to walk to clear my head. Set me right.”

Her mother gave her a fierce one-eyed stare, but relented.

“You know what’s best for you,” she said. “Please don’t be gone too long. I can’t stand for you to be gone too long.”

“Want to walk with me?” the Soldier asked.

“No, I just need to be alone for a bit.”

“You sure, kid?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m trusting you,” he said. “Just be back before it gets too dark.”

Zipping up her jacket, she and the Soldier left the house; he went left, and she went right. The sun was setting and a light snow was falling, but the lights around the town were being lit, illuminating the dark. It was the perfect winter eve. It was just what she needed to unwind. Just her, the snow, and the quiet streets.

She walked down the road, staying on the sidewalks. But with the evening arriving, the streets were empty. She smiled, and jumped onto the road, feeling the snow and slush crunch under her boots. Fareeha could feel the stress and terror roll off her; this is just what she needed.

Fareeha wandered aimlessly. First she walked down the bigger streets, but eventually got herself lost in the tiny side streets that existed for centuries, back when the realm was a tiny hamlet living in the shadows of the castle’s curtain wall. She loved this part of the town. Each street had its own tiny boulangerie or café. It was the picturesque way to spend the evening; a perfect way to clear her mind.

Reaching the castle’s curtain wall, she ran her fingers along the ancient stone. It had stood the test of time; the realm would be secure forever, all thanks to the Shield-Maidens and the Knights of the realm.

One brick caught her eye. It was worn almost smooth, but she could still see the name engraved in it.

_Amari._

It had been part of the castle since it was raised. It was a testament to her family, to be counted on as one of the oldest names to stand with the royal family. To be counted among the king’s most trusted soldiers was almost her birthright. It was something her mother passed onto her, and what she’d eventually find a way to pass on in turn.

Her mother. Her mother loved her. Her mother loved her so much, sometimes it hurt. The cobblestone road didn’t know anything.

Despite that, her hands still trembled. She never knew her father.

Fareeha shook her head. She shouldn’t be focusing on such things. It was a test; nothing more, nothing less. And she had passed. She was back home now, wasn’t she?

“You still can’t touch me,” she whispered to the night air.

She was so busy looking at the stars, she nearly tripped over a crack. She caught herself, and noticed she was by a tiny bookstore.

The idea she came up with flittered back through her brain. This could do two things: clear her head, and get the Witch her present. She pulled out the Soldier’s watch; it was getting past seven at night, but the store was, shockingly, still open. Fareeha didn’t know how long it would be open, so she pushed at the door and walked inside.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hello!”

A woman jumped up from the counter, black hair pulled into a bun.

“Mei? Is that you?”

“Fareeha?” Mei’s face lit up. “Oh, it is you! I didn’t know you were back!”

“Just got back, actually,” Fareeha said.

Mei-Ling Zhou ran from around the counter, wearing a sweatshirt that bore a massive embroidered emblem of the Shield-Maidens on the front. She wasn’t a Shield-Maiden, but her girlfriend, Zarya, was.

“Still stealing Zarya’s clothes?” Fareeha laughed as Mei wrapped her in a fierce hug.

“Shut up, it’s comfortable,” Mei said. “And soft and warm.”

Mei was a big girl, but the sweatshirt was made for the even bigger Zarya. Owning several pairs of Shield-Maiden paraphernalia herself, Fareeha knew how warm the sweatshirts were. It had the added benefit of making girls green with envy seeing them; the sweatshirts weren’t available for purchase. To wear one, you had to be one. Or in Mei’s case, dating one.

“Did you escape the Witch again?”

“Please, she let me come back,” Fareeha said. “And I just got back home. I wanted to take a stroll around town, clear my head.”

“I’m glad you swung by, but you can’t leave your mother waiting.”

“I saw her first. Just wanted to have a nice evening to myself.”

“Evening?” Mei looked at her watch. “Aah! I’m going to be late!”

“Lose track of time?”

“Yes,” Mei stammered, running back to the counter. “I have to close up. Zarya is cooking!”

“Cooking with vodka, or cooking _and_ drinking vodka?” Fareeha smiled.

“I’m not answering that,” Mei pouted.

“Before you close, I was wondering if you had a few books.”

“You came to the right place,” Mei said, gesturing to the tall bookshelves. “What are you looking for?”

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile.

“Some real trashy romance books.”

That got Mei to stop.

“’Trashy romance?’” She said. “Who are you and what have you done with Fareeha?”

“They’re not for me.”

“I hear that _every_ day,” Mei smiled.

“They’re not! They’re…they’re for a friend.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Look, it’s both a gift and a prank. That’s all,” Fareeha groaned.

“I’ll bet.” Mei gestured for Fareeha to follow her. They walked through the rows of book shelves until they came to a corner of the small store. The tall bookshelf was filled with paperbacks that all had gloriously cheesy cursive covers and gorgeous models, all dramatically posing while in various states of disrobing.

“All the romance you can shake a stick at,” Mei laughed.

“I didn’t think there’d be this much.”

“They’re actually really popular. Guilty pleasures and what-not.”

“Do you have any recommendations?”

“Well, we got a few new ones in that seem pretty popular.” Mei grabbed a stool and pulled a few from the shelf. She handed them to Fareeha.

“’ _Dangerous Love?_ ’” She read the covers. “’ _Forbidden Stars?_ ’ ‘ _A Knightly Stay?_ ’”

“You’re the one who reads them, not me.”

“They’re not for me!”

“Oh, right. I get you,” Mei said, doing an exaggerated wink.

Fareeha hit Mei on the shoulder with a book, but gently. It made Mei laugh.

“Do those look good?”

“I don’t know what my friend likes.” Fareeha stumbled over calling the Witch of the Wilds her ‘friend.’ But Mei couldn’t know she was buying a gift for the Witch. “Guess I’ll play it safe and get a few more.”

She grabbed the books at random. She wasn’t a connoisseur of romance; she just hoped the Witch would like them regardless.

“Good. I’ll go ring you up,” Mei said, jumping from the stool. “Then I have to go! Zarya is waiting for me.”

“You must really love working here to lose track of time on Christmas.”

“My family runs this store; I grew up surrounded by books,” Mei said, working the register.

“Just make sure you leave time for poor Zarya.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Mei grinned. “She makes me spend quality time with her. Sometimes she visits when we’re slow, and we do a little ‘rearranging.’”

“Tell Zarya I said ‘Merry Christmas,” Fareeha groaned.

 

* * *

 

It was strange to sleep in her old bed again. Moving in with the Witch meant she had to give up her apartment, so it was doubly strange sleeping in the bed she grew up in, down the hall from her mother’s room.

To make it even stranger, she felt more comfortable in the Witch’s mansion. Fareeha couldn’t help but think that when she ended up tossing and turning for a few hours before drifting off to sleep. It took longer than expected to adjust to being home.

Fortunately, waking up felt right. It felt like she was a little girl again, and everything was going to be just fine. The fact that it was Christmas was a bonus.

She rolled over and went back to sleep. It was like hitting the snooze button on her internal clock, and she was so relaxed, she was actually able to get a few more hours of sleep. But by then, she had to get up and move. It felt like she was wasting valuable time with her mother and the Soldier.

Dressed in her pajamas, she walked down the stairs to the living room. Her mother and the Soldier were sitting by the Christmas tree, nestled under a blanket together, and reading books. Like her, they were still in their pajamas, although the Soldier wore a robe as well. Everyone was lazy on Christmas.

“Look who’s up,” the Soldier laughed. “Wakey-wakey, sleepy head.”

“Morning,” Fareeha smiled, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry, I needed that sleep.”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” her mother said. “You take exactly what you need.”

“I was holding off on breakfast until you were up,” the Soldier said, getting up. “Better get to stepping.”

“No, it’s okay, I can wait,” Fareeha said.

“Yes, at least let us give Fareeha her present.”

“Mother, you know I don’t want anything.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you a bit, does it?” The Alchemist laughed, a glint in her eye. “Don’t you worry, it’s just one thing.”

Reaching under the tree, her mother pulled out a small box. As small as it was, it looked big enough to hold the books that she got for the Witch. She’d have to hold onto it.

She tore off the wrapping paper and carefully opened the box. Inside was a woolen blue and gold scarf. It was soft, and holding it in her hands, she could feel how warm it was.

“I know how much you hate the cold. This should keep you nice and warm.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s handmade,” her mother smiled.

“You made this?”

“Took me nearly two months of hard work,” she beamed.

The scarf was easily a yard long.

“She was working her fingers to the bones,” the Soldier laughed. “You should’ve seen her. Looked like a proper grandma.”

“Stop it,” her mother said, smacking the Soldier’s arm.

“Thank you. I’ll wear it every chance I can,” Fareeha said, wrapping it around her neck. The scarf was incredibly soft. It was a joy to wear. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything.”

“You being here is enough of a present,” her mother smiled. “No one deserves to be alone during the holidays.”

Fareeha stopped. She couldn’t help but think of the Witch, all alone in that massive mansion with no one there. The only person there was the Reaper, if he could be counted as a person. He was an undead monster, and even though she spoke to him a few times, she might as well have been talking to a rock.

“Something the matter?” The Soldier asked. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” she said. Suddenly Fareeha felt her heart ache for the Witch. “Just…getting sentimental, I guess.”

“Oof! ‘Sentimental,’ she says!” Her mother laughed. “You’re not old enough to fall for sentimentality.”

“I got underwear older than you,” the Soldier laughed.

“That’s gross!”

“Come on, we have to ham it up while you’re here,” Jack said. “I’ll get started on breakfast. We’ll all loaf around until we have to go to the feast.”

“No need to leave in a hurry, Fareeha,” her mother said. “We’ll be fashionably late.”

 

* * *

 

They were, indeed, fashionably late to the feast.

At first, Fareeha was itching to move, tapping her feet and double checking her dress uniform. But then she realized that she’d be making the king wait, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Then it became a fun little game.

They eventually made their way to the castle where, once again, she was held as the guest of honor. The Shield-Maiden who the wicked Witch took for herself had returned home again, a triumphant hero!

Fareeha never understood what made her triumphant. She was practically a self-employed maid, able to come and go where- and when- ever she pleased. If it wasn’t for the King’s orders for her to return to the Witch, she’d be back home among friends and family.

Friends. The poor Witch didn’t have friends, only those who hated and feared her. Her mother’s words echoed through her head all throughout the feast: no one deserves to be alone during the holidays.

Then it was the Witch’s words that echoed through her head: no one mourns the wicked.

Fareeha’s mind was elsewhere, always finding a way back to the Witch. She was mentally clocked out, going through the motions presented to her. Standing when the king stood, offering a toast, sitting when the king did, eating and drinking like an automata, the only time she was even remotely engaged was when she was talking to her friends.

Lena, Zarya, and Hana all sat by her, wearing their own dress uniforms. Hana was still breaking hers in; she was so proud of the uniform, she had a smile so big, Fareeha was afraid she’d pull a muscle. Lena and Zarya brought Emily and Mei, who wore fabulous red and blue dresses, respectfully. They all ate, they all drank, they all chatted away as they ate, but the Witch was always on Fareeha’s mind, all alone in her massive, empty mansion.

No one deserves to be alone during the holidays.

Eventually, everyone in the banquet hall had eaten their fill, even Zarya and King Reinhardt. The party moved to the neighboring ball room, where bands and DJs were ready to perform. The opening act was the up-and-coming EDM DJ Lúcio, and seeing and hearing him mix, Fareeha could see why he was a rising star.

Hana was clearly smitten by dark-skinned DJ, and looked like she would burst into flame when Lena and Zarya ragged her to ask him to dance when his set was up. The following band began setting the mood by focusing on couple’s dances, and the two only ragged on poor Hana even harder.

Sighing, Fareeha stepped in as the mature one, and told Hana that she should give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen? If he says ‘no,’ and life goes about as normal. But if he said ‘yes,’ then the sky was the limit. Besides, who’d say no to a beautiful young Shield-Maiden?

Her former apprentice gathered her courage, and soon found herself dancing with the rising star.

Fareeha helped herself to the open bar, found a seat off to the side, and watched everyone dance the night away. Lena and Emily were the energetic and risqué duo, while Zarya and Mei surprised everyone with their waltzing skills. They got into a playful ballroom dance-off with her mother and the Soldier, who formed a daring Viennese Waltz couple.

Not that Fareeha was tempted to join in. Nearly a dozen women tried to pry her from her spot on the sidelines. They were all gorgeous, of course. Every one of them was dressed to the nines, and Fareeha was sorely tempted to make an evening of it, but she gently rebuffed them all; she simply wasn’t in the mood.

She just couldn’t stop thinking about the Witch. No one deserves to be alone during the holidays, no one would ever mourn the wicked.

She should go back the following day. It didn’t seem right to leave the Witch all alone. Not only that, but what was for her here? Yes, she was a Shield-Maiden, and could return to the barracks for a temporary assignment, but they probably wouldn’t out of pity for having to be claimed by the Witch of the Wilds. She would just end up lounging around at home, and she didn’t deal well with idleness.

The dancing ended close to nine, and Fareeha let herself be talked into a bar-hopping after party with her friends, if only to give her mother some alone time with the man who should have been her father. The village was dark, but with the bright streetlights and light dusting of snow, it was a far cry from foreboding. Lúcio came with Hana, and while Lena and Zarya never did or say anything while the handsome man was around, the second he’d leave for the bar to get the next round, they were all over Hana, making her blush something fierce.

Beer led to mixed drinks led to shots, and soon Fareeha was good and drunk. Zarya was drinking everyone under the table, as per usual, but Lúcio surprised everyone by keeping a decent pace with her. Not exactly on par with Zarya, no one could do that, but it was close enough for her to start calling him ‘little brother.’

Eventually, they were all getting a real sloppy drunk. Lena was getting friskier and friskier with Emily, Hana kept trying to drag Lúcio off somewhere, but the real tipping point was Zarya heavily leaned on Lúcio, telling him to ‘treat our little sister right, or I’ll break your legs. Slowly.’

Drunk as she was, Fareeha was still the most sober one there, and decided it was time to call it quits. Ubers and Lyft were called, and she was happy to see Hana hanging off of Lúcio. Wherever they were going, she hoped they were happy.

Getting her bearings, she decided to walk the drinks off under the beautiful, dark, winter night. Bundled up with her mother’s handmade scarf to keep her warm, she walked through the streets. Her legs knew where she was and began carrying her home, letting her freely think about the Witch and how lonely she was. No wonder she was so sad, or why she drank all the time.

No one deserves to be alone during the holidays.

For some reason, Fareeha started crying. She blamed the alcohol.

When she got home, she made her way to her old room as quietly as she could. Both her mother and the Soldier were true warriors, and light sleepers because of it. But she remembered where the creaky floorboards were, and avoided them as easy as it was to breathe. When she got to her room, she gathered up her things, and packed them away. She would  leave in the morning. Or the afternoon, if her hangover was bad.

She carefully packed the romance books into the box, re-wrapped it with leftover wrapping paper, then fell on the bed, passing out. She forgot to take her dress uniform off.


	11. New Year’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha surprises the Witch with both a Christmas gift, and her presence for New Year's.  
> But as the New Year rolls in, she has a startling revelation.

Her post-Christmas bar hopping hangover wasn’t that bad. What made Fareeha sad to leave was her mother, who cried before she even left the house. Part of her didn’t want to go back, but she had a present to deliver. She had a Witch to cheer up.

Soon she was at the cobblestone road.

“I have a present to deliver,” she told herself for the umpteenth time. “I won’t shirk that duty.”

She started walking along the path, the Witch’s vellum map tight in her hand, waiting for the next hellish obstacle. Even standing on the road filled her with a sense of dread, that something was just _wrong_.

The forest was silent as she marched along the cobblestones, staying in the dead center. She could hear her breathing with acute clarity, could feel the adrenaline burning her veins, but so far, there was nothing.

Fareeha pulled out the Soldier’s watch. She had spent nearly an hour on the road. There had to be something, there had to be some kind of catch.

But she came upon the thicket, all without hearing a voice, smelling something, seeing something, anything! She had crossed the cobblestone road without incident. That scared her more than it should have.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” she said, but the joke was forced. Still, she didn’t complain. Fareeha pushed her way through the thicket, and it was habit to make her way to the Witch’s mansion, past the frozen, snow covered Omnics.

She grabbed the door, and her palm glowed, magically opening the door. Fareeha found the Witch lounging on one of the dozens of sofas, drinking and reading, as usual.

“I thought I told you that you didn’t have to come back,” the Witch groaned, placing her bottle of wine bottle next to two other empties.

Seeing the lackadaisical Witch lifted her spirits.

“I knew you’d miss me,” Fareeha smiled.

“As if!” The Witch said, turning away to hide a slight blush.

“I have a question,” Fareeha said. With her boots off, she sat on a sofa opposite the Witch. “I came back along the cobblestone road, but nothing happened.”

“Nothing, you say?” The Witch said, setting her book aside.

“Nothing!” Fareeha said. “No voices, no images, no terror…well, there was that, and I was scared to cross the road, but it wasn’t like it did anything else to scare me.”

“You were scared?” The Witch laughed, re-crossing her legs. “A Shield-Maiden of the realm, scared?”

“We all get scared. It’s what we chose to do with that fear that defines us,” she said. “That was the first lesson they teach you in basic: fear is a natural response. We can either break under it and run, or we can accept it and push against it. After all, being brave means you fight against fear. If you can’t feel fear, you can’t be brave.”

“I remember that lesson. It’s actually quite right; being fearless _is_ cheating.”

“Exactly,” Fareeha said. “So why wasn’t there anything with the road?”

“I can’t give you specifics, but I can tell you this: the creature that made the cobblestone road made it to tempt and steal wanderers,” the Witch said. “Even though it has to play the game of crossing over the road, it always treats the game like it won, and the game itself, crossing the cobblestone road, is a foregone conclusion; think of it as playing with your food.

“It’s possible that since you’ve gone down the road so many times, either it finally gave up and stopped tempting you, or it just got bored with you.”

“So I don’t have to worry about that damned road trying to kill me?” Fareeha said, excitement in her voice.

“Don’t get conceited,” the Witch snapped. “Just because it didn’t tempt you with auditory or visual hallucinations _this_ time doesn’t make the road safe. It knows you make regular trips; it could be luring you into a false sense of security. Then the second you stray too far from the road…”

The Witch drew her thumb across her neck.

“Guess I’d better be careful,” Fareeha mumbled.

“Damned right you’d better. It’d be a shame to lose you like that.”

“I _knew_ you cared,” Fareeha laughed.

“I meant that you’ve gone down it so many times, you should know better,” the Witch snapped.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Why couldn’t you just stay back at the village?” She mumbled. “It would make my life so much easier.”

“My king ordered me here—”

“Oh, I know what your shitty king did, and how the damned Maidens are so fucking committed, no need to remind me. But you’ll have to go back to town for New Year’s. Why bother coming back?”

“Actually, I was hoping to spend New Year’s with you,” Fareeha said. Now it was her turn to blush.

That got the Witch to stop. She had the bottle halfway to her mouth, as if she was trying to understand what Fareeha was saying.

“’Stay here?’” She sputtered. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“No one deserves to be alone during the holidays,” Fareeha said. “This place is so big, and so empty. It must be hell to live in this empty mansion every day; I couldn’t imagine how the holidays are.”

“I’m perfectly fine! I’ve been living like this for centuries!”

“And how was your Christmas?”

The Witch glared at her.

“Well~~?” Fareeha said in a sing-song voice. She playfully leaned towards the Witch. “What did you do to celebrate?”

It looked like the Witch wanted to bite her tongue, but she spoke regardless.

“…I got drunk and passed out,” she mumbled, blushing heavily.

“Then if you’re going to spend your New Year’s drinking and passing out, you could at least use some company.”

“And your mother is fine with you staying?”

“She didn’t like it, but she agreed to it. She might be my mother, but I don’t have to obey her like the king; I’m a grown woman, after all. Please? Can’t you let me…?”

“Fine,” the Witch sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms. “I’ll give you permission. You can stay.”

“Thank you,” Fareeha said. “Oh, and before I forget.”

She reached into her pack, and pulled out the wrapped box.

“What is that?” The Witch asked.

“It’s a Christmas gift.”

“Why would you get me that?”

“Because it’s the season of giving, that’s why.”

The Witch hesitantly took the box, and carefully took off the wrapping paper. She opened the box, and stared at the books. Her face grew hard, and flushed beet red.

“What the crap are these?” She demanded, grabbing one book. “Did you go snooping about my private things?”

“What? N-no, nothing like that,” Fareeha said, back peddling. She was expecting the Witch to do something, _anything_ but think she was spying on her. “I was doing some cleaning, and put a few books away. I didn’t mean to snoop around, but I was curious to see what you were reading.”

The Witch’s face was tense and flush, but Fareeha couldn’t tell from what: rage, or embarrassment.

“’ _Dangerous Love?_ ’” She read the covers. “’ _Forbidden Stars?_ ’ ‘ _A Knightly Stay…?_ ’ These…these…”

Fareeha saw a smile peeking out at the corner of her dead set lips. The Witch fought against it, Fareeha could see her try, but despite her valiant efforts, she broke out laughing.

“By the old gods, these sound _terrible_.”

“The worst,” Fareeha smiled.

“These look abysmal!” The Witch laughed. Gone was her grim demeanor. Now she was grinning from ear to ear, and laughing uncontrollably. She read from the back of one of the books.

“’Lauryn is a noble lady, betrothed to Prince Richard the Tenth to secure her realm, and the safety of her subjects. Richard is noble, valiant, handsome, and above all else, _boring_. Just when Lauryn resigns herself to her fate, a mysterious knight arrives to enter the local tourney, and he awakens in her a desire she never knew she had. Now she must ask herself: for whom will she marry? For her realm, or for herself?’

“How did you find these monstrosities?!” The Witch laughed.

“Do you like them?”

“I _love_ them!”

That made Fareeha smile herself.

“Oh, thank the new gods; I was taking a real risk. Now my friend’s girlfriend thinks _I’m_ the one who likes these things.”

That just made the Witch laugh even harder.

“Oh, how could you?” She howled.

Just seeing the Witch laugh made Fareeha laugh even harder. Soon, the two were laughing just because they were laughing, the Witch clutching the books close to her chest. Fareeha had seen the Witch smile before, but never like this. All those times before, the Witch was smiling either because she was in a position where she knew all the answers, or was laughing at a small joke.

But now, the Witch was laughing uncontrollably. She was cutting lose and practically howling. Now, she was smiling because she was genuinely happy. The difference between then and now was night and day. Then, her smile was tight, controlled, still in her control. But now, she was completely off-guard, her smile threatening to run away. Her eyes…gods, how did Fareeha not notice her eyes before? They were such a beautiful shade of cerulean.  

“By the gods, I haven’t laughed like this in _forever,_ ” the Witch gasped, wiping away a few tears.

“Feels good to have company?”

“Yes…yes, it actually does.” She read the backs of the cheap paperbacks. “Oh, these are _atrocious_. I haven’t had a new book in such a long time. Damn you, I’ll have to start reading these right away.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Fareeha said, getting up.

“Oh, thank you for this. Thank you!”

Fareeha jumped as the Witch wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Y-you are most certainly welcome,” she said, hugging her back.

Her heart fluttering, Fareeha made her way to the stairs, taking a second to look back at the Witch. She gestured, and the still-full wine bottle magically corked itself and floated away, leaving the Witch to curl up with the book. The Witch was still smiling from ear to ear; seeing her smile was like watching the sun rise, it was like the entire room was illuminated. Seeing the Witch so happy made Fareeha happy as well. Her little had idea paid off in spades.

She caught herself gazing longingly at the Witch. Fareeha shook her head and made her way up the stairs; she didn’t like the Witch of the Wilds or anything, it was just a little crush.

 

* * *

 

Waking up and going through her morning workout routine, Fareeha wondered what New Year’s Eve with the Witch of the Wilds would be like. Would the Witch be as cliché as they’d made her out to be back home? Would she ride around on her broomstick, finding children to trick and sell off?

That got her laughing. The Witch was more likely to polish off a bottle of wine than put a spell on someone. Of course, she had been binge reading since Christmas, and had barely touched any wine, or done anything else for that matter.

Clean from her shower and dressed casually, she walked to the kitchen to find the Witch gleefully cooking with the Reaper.

“I still don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing this,” Fareeha said.

“And a _very_ good morning to you too, my lovely houseguest!” The Witch was practically singing. Fareeha never saw her so happy. It was strange, but she loved seeing her smile and glow. “I finished one of my new books last night.”

“How was it?”

“Oh, just horrid!” She laughed. “The prose was weak, there were hardly any variation between the character’s voices, adjectives and descriptors were repeated dozens of times over, someone seriously needs to give the author a thesaurus, and the plot was far too contrived, with far too many fortuitous turn of events and deus ex machinas.”

“Sounds like you liked it,” Fareeha smiled, sitting down.

“I adored it! I have a lot of books in this mansion, and I’ve re-read most of them three or four times. Getting a new book was just so refreshing!”

“Did any of the other Witches have a thing for romance?”

“A few did. I’ve inherited their collections,” the Witch said. She took a giant cast iron pan from the fire and gently slid a mixture of potatoes and sausages onto a plate. The Reaper was cooking the same dish, and filled a similar plate.

With a flick of her wrists, both plates rose and floated towards the table, while the Witch grabbed two wine bottles and sat down. She practically glided as she walked over to the table.

“Thank you for your help, Reaper,” she said, sitting down. “You can go about your chores, if you’d like.”

The Reaper grunted and stalked out of the room.

“Drinking?” Fareeha said, pointing to the wine bottles. “So early?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” the Witch said. Seeing her wide smile was infectious. “They’re already celebrating on the other side of the world.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The corks popped off both bottles, and the two made a quick toast before they sipped at it.

“This is delicious,” Fareeha said. “Normally I don’t go for white wine, but I like this.”

“I’m glad,” the Witch smiled. “White wines are my favorite, and this is the best vintage I have of it.”

“How can you knock this back? I kind of want to savor this.”

“Oh please, there’s plenty more where that came from,” the Witch laughed. “You’ve seen my farm, I have dozens of different grapes to make wine from. I’ve got a lifetime supply! And I live a very, very long time.”

“Then aside from day drinking, what do you have planned for New Year’s?”

“It’s been too long time since I’ve had a guest proper,” the Witch said. “I was thinking that we could break into some of the board games I’ve got here, maybe show you one of the libraries in case you wanted to do some reading of your own. You can’t be cleaning every day you’re here.”

“I’d like that,” Fareeha said. “Oh, why not do some horse riding? I’m sure the horses would like to get out.”

“You’re full of great ideas,” the Witch smiled.

“Stick around, you’ll see what I come up with,” Fareeha winked.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha adjusted her mother’s scarf as she pushed open the doors to the barn. The cows were huddled outside, but the horses were still in their stables. They stirred, and a certain chestnut stallion neighed at her.

“Looks like someone likes you,” the Witch laughed.

“Easy there, Edward,” she said, petting the horse. “I’ll get you out and about, don’t you worry.”

She pulled another apple from her pocket and fed it to Edward. He happily chomped away at it, nuzzling her all the while.

“Do you need a hand with your saddle?” She asked the Witch.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” she smiled. With a wave of her hand, the Witch’s saddle floated towards her black mare, buckling itself.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Fareeha asked. She pulled out a spare saddle that sat on the wall, and took a minute to get it strapped on Edward. The stallion patiently waited for her, and let her easily climb up.

“You ready?” The Witch asked her, a smile on her lips.

_I could get used to seeing her smile like this,_ Fareeha thought.

“Ready as ever,” she said instead.

“And no snowballs,” the Witch said, shooting a glare at her.

“Please, I can’t scoop up any snow here,” Fareeha said. “Not without you seeing me.”

“Good.” The Witch trotted out of the barn, an eye on Fareeha. She never made a move towards any banks of snow. Not that she needed to; she had stealthily made a snowball on their walk to the barn, and held it in one of her barrowed jacket’s massive front pockets.

“We can take an easy lap around the farm,” the Witch said once they were out of the barn. “There’s a path that meanders around the edge of the forest. It’s quite picturesque if I do say so my—”

The Witch never finished. Fareeha plucked the snowball from her pocket and deftly threw it at the Witch. It sailed through the air, and hit her square on the shoulder with a solid ‘thwack.’

By the time the Witch yelped and spun around, Fareeha was spurring Edward on, going the other way.

“You said you wouldn’t throw any snowballs!” The Witch yelled.

“I already had that one made,” Fareeha yelled back. “Seemed like a waste to not use it!”

Despite the angry yell, the Witch was smiling. She summoned a horde of snowballs from the ground, and flung them at Fareeha. She easily pulled at Edward’s reins, and he juked and dived, avoiding most of the snowballs. Fareeha realized she was laughing as she looked back at the Witch, who was rapidly gaining.

The two raced along the perimeter of the farm, darting into and out of the woods. Fareeha did her best to avoid the snowballs the Witch threw, while the Witch laughed wildly as she tried to hit Fareeha.

They had done a few laps of hard charging when their horses started to tire. Fareeha was the first to ease up on Edward. The massive destrier was snorting, gasping for breath, but Fareeha could tell he wanted to keep playing; he had a massive spring in his step that was just infectious.

“Easy there, boy,” she said, patting his neck. “We’ll just trot this out, give you a chance to catch your breath.”

The Witch trotted alongside her, Sabrina the black mare breathing in time with Edward.

“Like that snowball?” Fareeha asked.

“I have to stop trusting you around snow,” the Witch grinned.

“I take that as a yes,” she laughed, re-wrapping her new, handmade scarf. “Ugh, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting plenty cold.”

“The winter will do that to you,” the Witch said. “Let’s give the horses a little cool-down, and take an easy trot down a path in the woods before we head back inside. I have some mulled wine sitting on the stove; does that sound good?”

“How much mulled wine do you have?”

“More than a lifetime’s supply.”

“Now that sounds like a challenge.”

 

* * *

 

Once back inside, Fareeha pulled off her heavy coat, snow pants, and handmade scarf. To keep herself from sweating, she had unzipped the jacket she was borrowing, but she had still started sweating a bit. She’d have to take a shower later on, get clean, then into some warm, dry clothes.

As the Witch had said, she had a large pot on the stove, set to a low heat. Fareeha could smell the spiced wine from across the massive kitchen. With a wave of the Witch’s hands, two mugs picked themselves up, and filled themselves before floating over. Fareeha took a seat at a nearby table, and took one of the mugs.

The mulled wine was fantastic, especially after the cold ride they had gone on.

“I don’t want you to get too comfortable,” the Witch said as Fareeha kicked her legs up on the kitchen table.

“Why not?”

“I have something to show you.”

Fareeha got up, but couldn’t help but glare at the Witch as she summoned her broom, and was sitting on it while it floated along the ground.

“Seriously?” She said. “I have to walk, while you fly?”

“I’m the Witch of the Wilds,” she laughed. “I might as well use the perks of the job. But if it makes you feel better, would you like to ride with me?”

The Witch scooted back, patting the front of the broom.

“It won’t try to buck me off, will it?” Fareeha asked.

“And have you spill your wine? That’s alcohol abuse!”

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh at that. She took a step forward, and sat down on the broom.

“I’ll hold onto you,” the Witch said as the broom lifted itself further off the ground. She gently put a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder.

As the broom lifted her off the ground, Fareeha’s first instincts were to check her balance. She tilted back, and tried to steady herself. But the Witch had a gentle hand on her shoulder, and kept her steady. Fareeha clamped down on the Witch’s arm, and kept a death-grip on her mulled wine.

“That’s it,” the Witch said. “I’ve got you.”

It was so strange to be sitting on the Witch’s broom as it floated through the mansion. Then Fareeha realized how close she was to the Witch, and how she held her arm.

It was just a little crush, nothing more.

The broom, and the Witch, carried them up to the third floor. But instead of taking the stairs, it just lifted straight into the air once they got to the main ballroom. Once they were ten feet off the ground, Fareeha redoubled her grip on the Witch’s arm.

“How can you do this?” She demanded as the floor shrunk further and further away from them.

“Lots of practice,” the Witch laughed.

They cleared the third floor landing, and soon had ground back under their feet. Fareeha wanted to jump off, but she also wanted to keep holding onto the Witch. Eventually, the Witch made the choice for her; she got off in front of one door.

“Here we are,” she said. Her broom followed behind her, leaving her with a hand free to hold her wine. “One of the libraries I have.”

“You have more than one?” It felt good to have solid ground under her feet.

“There are three, actually,” the Witch said. “A few of my predecessors added them. We Witches like our books.”

She opened the door, and it again seemed like the inside was bigger than the outside. There were massive bookshelves that stretched to the vaulted ceiling, and there were hardly any empty spaces left on the shelves. Massive, plush chairs lined the walls, and there were massive windows that ran from the ceiling, almost to the floor. They let in a wonderful amount of natural light, and had a commanding view of the farm and the enchanted forest.

“This is incredible,” Fareeha said in awe.

“And it’s just one,” the Witch smiled. “I love these libraries. They’re my comfort rooms, my little companions throughout the long years.”

The Witch said that with reverence, even fondness, but Fareeha couldn’t help but feel remorseful at that. How long had the Witch been alone?

“This has to be as big as the king’s library.”

“Maybe a little bigger. And remember, this is only one,” she smiled.

“This is what you wanted to show me? You wanted to give me this library?”

“Nothing so cliché as that,” the Witch laughed. “I told you: there are no locked doors for you here. If you want to do some reading, by all means, read away; just put the book back in their correct place. The reason I brought you here is I wanted to show you this.”

The Witch led Fareeha towards one of the book shelves. Now that she was closer, Fareeha could see the books were a mis-matched collection. There were massive, ancient, leather-bound tomes, some with cloth spines, and still others seemed to be old paperbacks, with yellow-aged pages and faded cover art.

Fareeha realized she had finished her mulled wine much faster than she thought she did. She was feeling very warm and lose.

The Witch pointed to one of the shelves. Nestled among the old books was one of the books that Fareeha gave her, ‘ _A Knightly Stay._ ’

“I just added it to the collection before our ride,” the Witch smiled. “I can’t wait to read the others and add them here.”

“That book can’t be that good,” Fareeha stammered.

“Of course it isn’t!” The Witch laughed. “But this is my library, and I choose what goes into it. And I want that book with the others. It’s one of the best presents I’ve gotten. Come to think of it, it’s the _only_ present I’ve gotten in the past several centuries.”

Fareeha looked at the book, then at the Witch. The Witch was smiling at her, gazing deep into Fareeha with her cerulean eyes. Her golden hair was like a halo, framing her face. Her pale cheeks were flushed, her full lips slightly parted as she seemed to lean forward…

This time, it was Fareeha who had to take a look away to avoid blushing.

“I—I’m glad you like it,” she stammered, unconsciously pulling back.

She didn’t like the Witch…she, she just had a crush. Yes, it was a crush. It was just like all the others she had; it would go away.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, you can roll a four,” the Witch said.

“Shut up,” Fareeha snapped. She shook the dice in her hands, rattling the bones so to speak. “I’ll get a nine.”

“’A nine,’” the Witch laughed. “Oh, you’re precious. It’ll be a four. It has to be a four.”

“You better not be putting a spell on this,” Fareeha said.

“I swear upon the old gods and the new, I am not interfering with this game,” the Witch said, raising her hand. “Where’s the fun in this if I could magic my way into winning every single time?”

She had a point there.

“Are you going to keep shaking the dice,” the Witch smiled, “or are you going to roll a four?”

“Shut up!”

Fareeha finally rolled the dice. One of the six-sided die landed on a ‘one’ pip, while the other one landed on a point and spun around like a top. Her heart sunk.

“So much for your nine,” the Witch laughed.

“It just doesn’t have to be a three!” Fareeha spat.

The dice spun on its point, spinning and spinning and spinning for a stupid long time.

“Come on,” she said, “come on, not a three, not a three…”

The dice wobbled, and finally clattered to a side. It was a three.

“Four!” The Witch cried, jumping to her feet.

“Oh, come on!”

“Four!!” The Witch yelled, pumping her fists. She ran in a little circle by their table set in the middle of the ballroom. “That means I get bricks from two locations, and because you can’t take any actions, that makes it my turn.

“Because I’m by a port, I can trade three bricks for anything I’d like. I think I’ll trade in six bricks for two woods, make two more roads, take that ‘longest road’ from you, and with those victory points, I’ll win the game!”

Fareeha drained her cup of mulled wine; she had lost count of how many they both had. The damned Witch was absolutely ruthless at _Settlers of Catan_. She thought she started off strong, with good board position, but the Witch was able to out-maneuvered her at every turn.

“You and your damned luck,” she mumbled.

“Me and my damned luck,” the Witch smiled, finishing her drink. “I haven’t played a board game in such a long time.” The Witch flopped down on her sofa. “Oh, thank you for this.”

As angry as Fareeha was, she couldn’t stay mad, especially when the Witch was this happy. Her smile was so big, so sincere, so beautiful, it was like she was radiating light.

“You’re welcome.” Fareeha idly played with the Soldier’s watch. Suddenly she remembered what day it was. She flipped it open and saw the time. “Oh shit! It’s nine to midnight! We’ll miss New Years!”

“What? It was the morning not too long ago,” the Witch gasped. She got to her feet, but nearly toppled over. It was good to know the wine was getting to her too.

With a wave of her hands, the sofas, chairs, and tables that filled the ballroom moved to the sides of the rooms, creating a circular space around one of the massive windows in the room. Fareeha was going to ask her what she was doing, but the Witch was in silent meditation, her long golden hair billowing behind her from her magic.

As the Witch spun her spell, the glass of the window suddenly shimmered, like it was a video coming into focus. The window suddenly became a screen of some kind, showing the village and the castle. It looked like an aerial shot of the castle, something the news would show.

“Is this…are we streaming something?”

“Please, it’s just magic,” the Witch laughed. One of the sofas moved forward, giving them something to sit on.

The window/screen showed a massive square in the village. Fareeha knew it well, they always held their New Year’s celebration there. There was a large platform raised up where the King sat, along with the Fabled Four. She could see her mother in her Shield-Maiden uniform, standing next to the Soldier. The Gunslinger and the Archer stood together, as enigmatic as they always were.

An assembly of Shield-Maidens and Knights flanked the stage. Fareeha was able to see Zarya, who stood out thanks to her pink hair. The King stood at the center platform, dressed as any royal should be. Behind him was a massive raised ball that would drop with the count down.

“We are gathered here, to witness the birth of a new year,” King Reinhardt bellowed. Fareeha wondered how they were able to listen, when there were no speakers. Then she remembered that it was magic. “To celebrate those who were lost, those who were taken, and those we will see again. Now, the hour is upon us! Let us welcome our new beginnings!”

Screens around the square showed the last minute of the old year counting down. They had less than thirty seconds.

When they got to ten, the ball lit up, turning the night into day, and begun its trip down to the ground.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Fareeha didn’t know if it was all the drinks she had, but she was truly swept up in the moment.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The countdown, and the ball, hit zero. Fireworks set on the curtain wall were set off, shooting into the air and exploding in a multitude of colors. Through the magic sound system, it actually felt like they were actually there, surrounded by the fireworks. There was an loud pop, and Fareeha realized that the Witch had popped a bottle of champagne. Two glasses floated next to her, and she filled them to the brim.

She handed one to Fareeha. They toasted, and drank deeply. Fareeha was really feeling the wine she drank earlier.

The Witch looked at her with those disarming eyes, smiling radiantly.

“Happy—“

Fareeha didn’t know what happened. The idea, the desire, floated into her head, and the alcohol made it happen.

She leaned forward and stole a kiss from the Witch of the Wilds. For a handful of seconds, there was nothing. She couldn’t hear the celebration, the fireworks, or the cheering. For Fareeha, there was only the kiss.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Fareeha broke the kiss. The Witch stared at her, shocked that she would do such a thing. Fareeha knew she had a dumb, shit-eating-grin on her face. Both woman looked at each other for a handful of seconds, the firework display forgotten. The Witch was stunned by Fareeha suddenly kissing her, and was blushing so much it was like she would burst into flames.

Fareeha didn’t know what to say, or what to do.

“Happy New Year,” she ended up saying. She was blushing as heavily as the Witch.

Eventually, the Witch blinked, and turned away.

“H-happy New Year,” she mumbled. It was beyond adorable.

A sudden realization hit Fareeha; a moment of clarity that cut through the thick haze of alcohol.

Her little crush had turned into a like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight edit to the end of the chapter, just to clarify what exactly happened when the New Year's countdown happened.


	12. New Year’s Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha didn’t know what to expect when she stole a kiss from the Witch of the Wilds, but she never expected her to run away.  
> Too bad for the Witch; running just makes Fareeha want to chase her even more.

Fareeha rolled over, and nearly fell onto the floor.

She hadn’t gone to bed; instead, the Witch had sent her a blanket and she clocked out on one of the sofas in the ballroom. Fareeha caught herself before she hit the floor, the shot of adrenaline waking her up.

Groaning, she sat up to stretch out. The memories of New Year’s Eve slowly came back to her.

She stole a kiss from the Witch of the Wilds. Fareeha didn’t know why; suddenly she knew she had to kiss her, and had acted by herself, on some half-remembered urge or idea.

No, she couldn’t kid herself. She knew _exactly_ why she kissed the Witch of the Wilds. She kissed her because the Witch was unexpectedly kind, uncharacteristically bashful, and now that she wasn’t scared of her anymore, she was the most beautiful woman Fareeha had ever seen. She kissed the Witch because she was falling for her, and falling hard.

And the kiss…it was wonderful. She could still feel the Witch’s lips against her own, their gentle plumpness with a mixture of the mulled wine they had spent the entire day drinking and the taste of the Witch herself…

It felt like she had found a missing piece of herself, some part that she didn’t even know was absent.

But what had the Witch thought? The Witch had just mumbled ‘Happy New Year,’ and ran off to her room. She didn’t even give her the blanket she was using; she had magicked it down to her. What if Fareeha crossed a line? What if the Witch didn’t want to be kissed? What if she misread something? What if she didn’t like women?

Now Fareeha began worrying. The warm, completed feeling peaked off, leaving her anxious. She had kissed the Witch without her permission; it felt like she had crossed a line. Part of Fareeha wanted to curl up and disappear, but she’d have to face the Witch eventually.

Groaning, she pulled out the Soldier’s watch. Thanks to their long day drinking, she had slept, off and on, to nearly to eleven. Getting up, she went to the kitchen for a tall glass of water to help fight her new year’s hangover. It shouldn’t have surprised her, but she still jumped a little when she saw the Witch in the kitchen, eating a simple meal of an omelet and what she had to guess was a screwdriver.

For an awkward moment, the two women looked at each other, each blushing despite themselves.

“Hi,” Fareeha stammered.

The Witch took a long pull of her screwdriver for some liquid courage before she responded.

“Hi.”

“Can I,” Fareeha started, “can I get some water?”

“Nothing here is off limits,” the Witch said.

_Including you?_ Fareeha nearly said. But she bit her tongue at the last second. It was such a cheesy line, and she didn’t need to embarrass herself any further.

“Thanks,” she made herself say. Despite the massive pile of dirty dishes, there were still plenty of clean glassware for her to choose from. Fareeha filled a glass with water, then walked back.

“Can I…” She should just find another table to sit at, or run back to the ballroom. “Can I sit here? I don’t want to bother—”

“No, it’s okay,” the Witch stammered, cutting her off.

“I just—”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t—” She said.

“No, it’s my fault—” Fareeha replied.

“It’s just—”

“I didn’t—”

“You’re not being—”

“This is—”

“I don’t want—”

“Imposing too—”

“You could never—”

Both she and the Witch were stammering, talking over each other. As one, they stopped,  alternating between looking at the ground and each other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to talk over you,” Fareeha quietly said. “Can I…Can I talk? Sit here and talk?”

“Yes, go on,” the Witch nodded.

Fareeha pulled a nearby chair out, and sat down. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable last night,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t want to say it was because I was drunk, I never liked that excuse, but I shouldn’t have just assumed you wanted to be kissed. It felt like I was forcing you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

“It’s fine,” the Witch said. “I didn’t mind; you’re actually a very good kisser.”

Fareeha grinned. She still had it!

“I, I was actually thinking if a kiss was needed.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but perk up at that.

“For New Year’s!” The Witch added, blushing furiously. “For the New Year’s tradition!”

“Oh,” Fareeha said. She kept her face as neutral as she could, even though her heart felt like it was breaking.

“It’s just…it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve had an evening like that,” the Witch said, fiddling with her now empty glass. “And even longer since I actually celebrated New Year’s properly. It seemed like a good idea, I just didn’t know if you wanted to go kissing the Witch of the Wilds. I mean, I’m the enemy of the realm. You know we shouldn’t be doing this, right?”

“No, I get it,” Fareeha mumbled. “I was given to you, but you don’t want me kept here.”

“It was an impossible task I gave your King,” the Witch laughed. “I never wanted you, but he gave you away all the while. You can leave any time.”

“I know that. And I told you, my king ordered me here.”

“Damn that king and damn your loyalty. The Maidens haven’t changed one bit,” she mumbled. “But I didn’t want to make anything awkward. I don’t want to take you from everything you know…shit, I was supposed to talk to you about the kiss. It was just tradition, you know?”

“I do.” Fareeha had had her heart broken before. She had talks like this before; this _should_ be easy…

But it wasn’t.

“I was just something to do this one time. Nothing more.”

“For tradition.”

“Yes, for tradition. You don’t have to do anything else about it, you don’t even have to stay here.”

Fareeha couldn’t take the disappointment any more.

“What if I didn’t want to do it just for tradition?”

Then she realized she had said it out loud.

The Witch stared at her.

“What do you mean?” She gasped.

Now Fareeha _really_ wanted to curl up and disappear. But the words were spoken; she couldn’t take them back. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and forced herself to keep talking.

“I—I didn’t just want to kiss you for tradition,” she stammered. Now was the time to be brave, to be assertive. “I wanted to kiss you because I wanted to kiss you.”

“You can’t.”

“I did. And I’d do it again.”

“I’m the Witch of the Wilds. I’m the one everyone hates. I’m your enemy. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“You don’t strike me as much of an enemy.”

“We can’t be doing this.”

“But I want to do this,” Fareeha smiled, trying to force a laugh.

“You don’t have to stay here,” the Witch mumbled, holding her head in her hands.

“You keep saying that.”

“But you’re still here!”

Fareeha gently took the Witch’s hand.

“Yes, but now I want to be here, with you.”

“You should go home,” the Witch said. She gently pulled her hand away. “The duties I’ve been entrusted to are too much for anyone to handle.”

“Even for you?” Fareeha asked.

The Witch looked away.

“You shouldn’t get involved with me,” she mumbled.

“But what if I want to?”

“Then I pity you,” the Witch spat. “I pity you, because this burden _is_ too much for me! If you stay here, if you stay with me, you’ll see the curse that I have to live with, you’ll see the cost it will demand that you pay, and I’ll have to watch it pull at you, I’ll have to see you waste away, and when it’s taken everything from you, I’ll be left all alone again!”

The Witch suddenly realized how much bitterness was in her voice, how much poison she spat. Shame overtook her, and her gaze fell on the table.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean for that to come across like that.”

“Then how was I to take it?”

The Witch was quiet for a long time.

“You should go home,” she said. “This isn’t good for either of us.”

“Too bad. Now I _want_ to stay here.”

“You’ll come to regret this.”

“I doubt that,” Fareeha smiled.

“Please, this is the best for me. And the best for you; you’re supposed to hate me, you’re supposed to want to kill me. Please, can’t we go back to when you spat at my name? It would make things so much easier, so much better for the both of us.”

“I can’t do that. I’ve seen you smile, and I want to make you smile for as long as I can.”

“But you don’t have to stay,” the Witch mumbled.

“But I want to stay here with you.”

The poor Witch was dejected. She wanted Fareeha to leave, but hearing that she wanted to stay with her, the Witch couldn’t hide the smile that leaked out of the corners of her mouth. It was slight, it was suppressed, but Fareeha saw it. That could only mean one thing.

The Witch wanted her.

Fareeha made a New Year’s Resolution: she was going to seduce the Witch of the Wilds, even if it was the last thing she did.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha flopped down on her borrowed bed in the room the Witch set up for her. She decided to spend the rest of New Year’s Day relaxing, both recovering from their New Year’s Eve binge, as well as plan what she was going to do to win the heart of the Witch.

She didn’t want to go in too heavy; there had been plenty of potential dates she had ruined by going too hard and heavy. Some women weren’t fully ready to date other women, or were turned off by her too up-front advances. As the Soldier always told her, ‘don’t scare the fishes.’

But on the other hand, she couldn’t go in too soft, either. There had been a few women who’d friend-zoned her because she took her time, didn’t make her intentions clear enough. There was a sweet spot to be had.

She thought she made her intentions clear over breakfast, but she couldn’t assume that. She didn’t want to assume _anything_. She wanted the Witch, and she’d be damned if she let this slip through her fingers. But the Witch seemed equally bent on keeping her out of her life. Fareeha had to cox her out of her shell, she had to win her heart.

Fareeha rolled over on her borrowed bed, chuckling. Here she was, in the very mansion of the dreaded Witch of the Wilds, the enemy of the realm, and she was planning on seducing her! It was madness.

But at the same time, it was the only thing that felt truly real.

Fareeha was positive the Witch wanted her. No, she wasn’t positive, she _knew_ it. She knew it like she knew grass was green, or that water was wet. She could feel it in her very marrow: despite what the Witch said, how she always tried to push her away, _the Witch wanted her_.

She’d never been so sure of anything in her entire life. The last time she felt this dedicated to an idea, was so positive of her cause, she had joined the Shield-Maidens. But even then, that self-assuredness seemed slight compared to this. If her drive to become a Shield-Maiden was a bonfire, then her knowledge that the Witch wanted her was a forest fire. It just didn’t compare.

It was all the little signs. It was the talk she had with the Witch when she came back after All Hallows’ Eve, when she crossed the cobblestone road twice in one day; the Witch told her a poem from when she was a girl. It was when the Witch said she was ‘enjoying the scenery’ when she was running, and when she ate lunch with the Witch when she found the farm in her backyard. It was the little ways the Witch had opened up to her.

It was the snowball fight they had in the winter wonderland of the rolling meadows.

It was the Witch calling her ‘my darling houseguest.’

It was the Witch opening her Christmas present.

Even now, Fareeha could see the Witch in her mind, see her smile when she opened her gift. It was a smile that could light up a room, and she smiled so rarely, it was special. Before then, when the Witch smiled, it was never like that moment; she would give a coy little smirk, a slight upturn on the corner of her lips that would hint that she knew something but wasn’t telling. It was never a smile that was so joyful, so carefree, so full of life, not like when she opened her present.

Life. That was something the Witch said to have a lot of. Now that Fareeha thought about it, the Witch never told her just how old she was. Dancing around the subject only made her depressed.

_I suffer from a severe case of melancholy,_ the Witch had said. _It flares up every so often._

Seeing the Witch taken by that mood was painful. Fareeha _never_ wanted to see her taken by such a mood ever again.

Maybe that was it. She’d have to find a way to make the Witch smile, to smile like she did the day after Christmas, when she opened her present. But how would she do it?

Fareeha thought she was doing a good job flirting with the Witch; maybe she should just keep up the flirting, see where it took her, let the Witch know what she wanted, what she thought of her.

“Guess that means I better get back to normal,” she mumbled. “I might end up cleaning this whole damn mansion.”

But that was for tomorrow. She had some New Year’s hangover to get through. Fareeha rolled over on the bed, trying to get comfortable, but she was itching to spy on the Witch, to see how she was spending her day.

Groaning, she got up, and quietly left her room. No, she wasn’t spying, she was just checking up on the woman she liked, the woman she was taken with. She made her way down the hall, staying on the plush carpets. She hardly made a sound. When she got to the stairs, she peeked over the banister.

The Witch was sitting on one of the sofas in the ballroom, curled up next to the massive fireplace. She was reading.

Fareeha couldn’t make out the title of the book she was reading, but she could tell from the cover, it was one of the romance books that was gifted to her.

Fareeha felt her heart swell. The Witch was reading her present, and judging from the smile on her face, she was loving it.

She made a mental note to get more romance books the next time she went home.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha woke with the sun, and rolled out of bed. She worked out, showered, dressed, then walked downstairs for breakfast.

As usual, the Witch was there, and was making a simple breakfast of hash browns and eggs. The Reaper was there, dropping off fresh herbs, eggs, and milk.

“Good morning,” Fareeha said.

“Oh, good morning to you, too,” the Witch smiled back.

“And I thought I was an early riser; when do you get up?”

“I have to get up early. Part of my duties as the Witch of the Wilds,” she said. “Reaper, if you’re done, feel free to go about your chores. Or you could take the day for yourself.”

The Reaper grunted, and drifted out of the kitchen.

“Think he’ll go back to the farm?” Fareeha asked.

“Oh, undoubtedly. He loves taking care of the animals.”

“They seem to love him, too,” Fareeha laughed. “The Reaper, being a farmer! Now I’ve seen everything!”

The Witch handed her a plate of food. Fareeha made sure to gently touch the Witch’s hand, to give it a gentle little caress as she took the plate.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Y-you’re welcome,” the Witch stammered.

“So part of being the Witch of the Wilds is getting up early?” Fareeha said, sitting down. She had to fight to keep from smiling. She was laying the flirting on just thick enough.

“In a way,” the Witch said, sitting down to eat herself. “There are ley lines, veins of magic, that run throughout the world, and I have to keep them in balance. I have to scry, or scan, the world for any irregularities, any imbalances. It’s best to do that in the morning, when the sun rises. It brings with it a new wind of magic, making it easier.”

“How do you know there’s an…imbalance?”

“It’s hard to explain it to someone who doesn’t have the magic. When I look over the world, I can feel an imbalance. From there, I can close in and find what’s causing it.”

“And then you fix it?”

“Depending on how bad the imbalance is, yes. If it’s more difficult, it requires more work.”

“What makes these ‘ley lines’ imbalanced?”

“Magic is raw and wild. It twists and turns, ebbs and flows, never truly staying still. Most of the time, it’s just the vein of magic getting twisted about. It’s only when you create a spell, or enchant an item, that it remains stable. Untamed magic has a tendency to get a little too wild and tangled, and need to be straightened out, rebalanced; it’s like how hair tends to knot itself.”

“And you just unkink it?”

“I do. But sometimes, someone gets somewhere they shouldn’t be, and has to be rescued from the tangled lines. Other times, someone is doing something they shouldn’t be doing.”

“Such as?”

“You want me to tell you so can dabble in something you shouldn’t?” The Witch smiled. “I think not.”

“Aw, but I wanted to be rescued by you,” Fareeha pouted.

“You’re a guest in my mansion, nothing more,” the Witch snapped, blushing despite herself.

Fareeha smiled in her little flirting victory.

“What do you do if someone found a tangle, and tried to make it worse? What do you do if they were _trying_ to unbalance the world?”

“Then things become less pleasant,” the Witch said, her humor vanishing. “Those are bad days.”

“You have to ‘take care’ of them?”

“Don’t make it sound like some mafia romance; it is a terrible thing to do, but balance must be maintained.”

“You’ve seen people killed before,” Fareeha said. “Surely you remember the attacks.”

“All too well. And I remember their faces. Violence is not something I enjoy unleashing, unlike many warriors.”

“Do you mean me?” Fareeha asked.

“I—I was referring to the Reaper,” the Witch gasped. “Gods, I didn’t mean any insult, being a soldier is a noble profession, but when one simply enjoys the act of killing…”

“No, I understand,” Fareeha said. “I get what you mean. Battles and wars _are_ addicting; the adrenaline, the cut-and-dry, do-or-die simplicity, it’s enticing. But I never truly liked the senseless violence or killing. At the end of the day, it’s a job.”

“Thank the Old Gods,” the Witch sighed. She blinked, as if she realized she was holding her breath. There it was again; the Witch cared about her. She wanted her.

“Ah-hem. It is a terrible thing to do, but the world must remain balanced.”

“What were to happen if it were unbalanced?”

“A little unbalance won’t destroy the world, but too much, left to linger for too long, that threatens the world, makes it possible for everything to come apart at the seams,” the Witch said. “There is magic all around us. It surrounds us, and penetrates us. It binds the world together. And the world exists because the magic is balanced. If everything were to go to shit, then the world would tear itself apart.

“Magic is naturally wild, but it also tends to balance itself out; nature loves an equilibrium, a balance. But tangled, unbalanced magic is pure chaos; it would run rampant, uprooting any balance it came across. It would destroy things like gravity, even time itself would become cracked and twisted. And the barriers that keep this world separate would shatter. I told you of the creature that made the cobblestone road, yes?”

“All too well,” Fareeha said, suppressing a shiver.

“It lives between the worlds. For the most part, the barriers, the walls of magic that make this world and others, keep it out. There are always small leaks, such as the cobblestone road, but it is kept out of the world. But if the barriers were to fall…”

The Witch didn’t need to say anything else.

“And you do this, all by yourself,” Fareeha said. “Allah, you’re incredible.”

“Thank you, but it is habit by now,” the Witch smiled, re-crossing her legs.

“That’s what I like about you. You’re so modest.”

That made the Witch blush again.

“Thank you, but you don’t need to stay here,” she said, looking at the table.

“But I like it here.”

The Witch mumbled something.

“Sorry?”

“It’s nothing,” the Witch said, getting up.

Fareeha watched the Witch leave the kitchen. She could’ve swore she heard her say something like ‘thank you.’

It had only been a few days since New Year’s, but Fareeha had the feeling that the Witch would be a tough one to win over. She obviously liked her flirting, but never seemed to take it any further. The Witch was keeping herself closed off; to get her to open up, she’d have to try something else. After all, doing the same thing and expecting different results was insanity; if she was going to win the heart of the Witch, she had to do something different, had to change her plans up.

But what to do, what to change? She was already flirting with her, she had already bought her gifts. She’d have to ask her out on a date; that was a given. But it had to be special. Maybe she should actually wear some makeup to go with the date? That got Fareeha to laugh. She wasn’t a makeup kind of girl, never mind a lipstick lesbian. That was more of Emily and Lena’s thing.

But Fareeha’s mind latched onto the idea. Maybe makeup _would_ make a difference on a date; it was certainly a change of pace for her. It would show the Witch how serious she was at pursuing her. That and Hana was always trying to get her to wear some; maybe her friend was onto something.

Yes, going a real, honest date and wearing makeup would be a good starting place. It certainly felt like she was calling in the big guns; it just might work. And while she knew nothing about makeup, she had plenty of friends who could help her out. The next time she went home, she would call in a favor or two.


	13. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha wants to win the Witch's heart. And since her usual flirting doesn't seem to be doing the trick, she goes back home to call in the big guns.

_“I’d like to visit my mother.”_

_“You’re not a prisoner. You can go anytime you’d like; in fact, you don’t have to come back.”_

_“But I like having someone to come back to,”_

The Witch had blushed, but let Fareeha go. She had spoken to the Witch the day before, but Fareeha still had the scene replaying in her head.

Fareeha was beginning to see a pattern every time she asked to go home. She’d ask the Witch, the Witch would say she could stay home if she wanted, she would flirt back, the Witch would blush, and let her go. But Fareeha liked the little dance she did with the Witch. And she knew the Witch did, too; she never asked Fareeha to stop, verbal or non-verbal, never once since she was brought to the mansion.

At least, Fareeha hoped she was reading the Witch’s non-verbal cues right.

She took a deep breath to collect herself, grabbed the velum map, and began her journey down the cobblestone road.  Maybe the Witch was right; whatever evil possessed the road just didn’t get the same kicks as the first time she walked down it. Everything was quiet and peaceful, if she were to ignore her gut twisting into a knot at the inherent wrongness of it all. It gave her time to think about the Witch, and her plans for her.

Fareeha could practically see herself walking back, all dolled up, a picture perfect lady killer. She could almost hear the Witch’s beautiful laugh as she opened the door to the mansion.

“Well, you look different.”

“Different how?” Fareeha said in her head.

“You look like you’re practically glowing.”

“Please, I’m just happy to see you.”

She could see the Witch blush and look away, almost as if she was chastely turning down her advance.

“You shouldn’t be happy to see me. I’m the Witch of the Wilds; I’m your enemy.”

“What if I want to start anew? What if we didn’t have to be enemies?”

Fareeha swept the Witch in her arms.

“I know you don’t just want me as a houseguest,” she said, pulling her close.

“But…but we can’t…”

“But we can—”

The map pulled itself out of her hands, hitting her in the face before it blowing away. Fareeha jumped; she had taken a few steps off the cobblestone road.

The familiar cocktail of fear and adrenaline hit her system; her good mood vanished in a heartbeat as she ran back to the road.

The damned road nearly got her this time. Something told her she was close, close to something, and whatever it was, it was not good.

The map was waiting for her at the middle of the road. Fareeha picked it up with shaking hands, terrified of her close encounter.

“I guess you still have it out for me,” she said to the road.

The forest was quiet. But deep inside of her, Fareeha knew that something was laughing at her.

She ran the rest of the way.

The cobblestone road led to the glen, which led to the clearing. Soon, she was home. Soon, her mother was wrapping her in the same fierce hug she had gotten when she first came back home.

“Oh, my daughter, have you given the Witch another slip?” the Alchemist said.

“Mother, she let me come and visit,” she said, returning the hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“You decide to stay locked up with the Witch on New Year’s, it’s no reason you wanted to come home,” her mother said. “Whatever possessed you to stay with the damned Witch?”

_Because she didn’t deserve to be alone during the holidays,_ Fareeha thought.

“I didn’t want to risk anything,” she said instead.

“Well, your room is still clean. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thank you, mom. But I’d also like to visit my friends as well.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha walked down the pedestrian street, idly rubbing the end of her mother’s warm, comfortable scarf. Shops lined both sides of the massive street, built into the old buildings that made up the heart of the village. They were ancient, from the very founding of the realm, the kind of buildings that no doubt caused much headaches for the architects who build the shops; they were landmarks, and simply couldn’t be changed without a group of historians throwing a fit. The fact that the king even let them be used as a shopping center at all had ruffled many an academic’s feathers.

But the result was beautiful. The aged bricks of the buildings matched the high-tech modern add-ons that many of the stores sought. Brick and aluminum blended together in the right ways, while neon and LCD signs were kept to a tastefully small size.

The shopping district was never a place that Fareeha had spent much time in, but she had a harebrained scheme, and she needed help pulling it off.

“Fareeha!”

She had kept on guard as she walked through the crowd, but Lena still found a way to flank her. Fareeha grunted as the chestnut haired Brit dove at her, much to the laughter of Emily and Hana, who were a few steps behind her.

“Oof! Lena, I get it, you’re happy to see me.”

“Aw, you know me so well, luv,” Lena grinned. “You keep puttin’ the moves on the Witch, you’re gonna need a new call sign; ‘Pharah’ doesn’t do it justice.”

“If you start calling me ‘twinkle toes,’ I swear to both the old gods and the new…”

“Lena isn’t that cruel,” Emily laughed. “Ease up on her, love. You’re gonna crush her.”

“Isn’t crushing people Zarya’s job?” Hana asked.

“I’m glad she’s not free today. My ribs are already aching,” Fareeha said. Lena reluctantly let her go, and she took a second to straighten her shirt; her flying tackle nearly turned it around. “Also, she might not like the plan we have today.”

“Zarya really isn’t an ‘oh-em-gee, let’s go shopping’ kinda woman, isn’t she?” Emily laughed. “I don’t think she’s ever set foot in the shopping district proper.”

“And I didn’t think you were that kinda woman, too,” Lena said. “What’s gotten into ya?”

“Don’t worry, I’m still the same old Fareeha,” she said. “But I also want to learn a little about makeup. I’m not a lipstick lesbian by any stretch of the imagination, so I had to ask all of you for help.”

“Well, you came to the right birds!” Lena said. “What’s the occasion?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” Fareeha smiled.

“Aw, come on, tell us,” Hana begged.

“Fine. I’m trying to seduce the Witch of the Wilds.”

That made everyone double over with laughter.

“The Witch of the Wilds she says!” Lena howled. “Oh, spare me, Fareeha, I’ll die if I keep laughing this much.”

“Come on, Fareeha, tell us who it’s really for,” Hana said.

“I told you, you’d never believe me,” Fareeha smiled.

“You're a horrible tease,” Emily smiled. “Where are you finding the time to doll yourself up and flirt with anyone when the Witch has you under her thumb? Did the Witch take anyone else captive?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” she winked.

“Oh fine, we’ll let you have your little secret,” Emily sighed. “First things first, what do you want this makeup to do? Do you want it to be for a date night, something gentle and easy for general out-and-about…?”

“Well, she doesn’t need to cover up any blemishes,” Hana said. “Seriously, I’m so jealous of your clear skin.”

“Hana, you’re not bad,” Lena said. “’Sides, I know for a fact that Lúcio doesn’t see any blemishes on ya.”

“You made things official with Lúcio?” Fareeha gushed.

“S-stop it,” Hana blushed furiously. “We just started dating! It doesn’t mean anything!”

“Aw, look at her go,” Lena grinned. “So cute, I swear!”

“Aren’t we doing this for Fareeha?” Hana pouted. “When are we going to teach her?”

“I’m thinking a simple cream foundation,” Emily said with authority. “Cream works best for me, might be a good place to start.”

“To the beauty salons!” Lena cheered, joyfully leading the way down the pedestrian mall. 

They walked to a nearby store, an artfully decorated front with what seemed to be white marble floors and black shelves. Endless bottles of beauty products stocked the shelves; Fareeha was quickly, and helplessly, lost.

“I am _so_ glad you’re teaching me,” she mumbled.

“Aw, thanks luv, we’re happy to help you,” Lena grinned. “Not to mention, we’re happy you’re back for a few days. Now come here, first lesson is finding the right color foundation.”

“I think we should start a third of the way down,” Hana said, pointing to the long rows. “Maybe halfway?”

“Halfway to a third. Let’s find a few bottles,” Emily said happily.

Emily led Fareeha down the aisle. They began grabbing bottles, holding it up to her skin to see if it matched. Every so often, they’d take a little dab and test it out before wiping it off.

Not that she wasn’t able to talk. She found time to see how her friends were doing.

“So, you and Lúcio, eh?” She said.

“Yes, me and Lúcio,” Hana groaned. “There, I said it. Are you happy?”

“That depends. Are _you_ happy?”

“I’d be happy once everyone left me alone about it,” Hana said, glaring at Lena.

“Aw, come on, Hana, it’s all good fun,” the Brit smiled.

“She’s just happy that you finally made a move,” Emily said. “She was actually getting worried you’d be married to the job instead of finding a nice guy.”

“Don’t get me wrong: we respect the Maidens who value duty above all else,” Lena said, “but at the same time, it just ain’t healthy to be living with all those cats.”

“Not every Maiden who took a vow of chastity is a crazy cat lady,” Fareeha said. “My mother was single for a long time.”

“And we were so _happy_ when she met the Soldier,” Emily gushed. “A romantic story for the ages! Two old soldiers find true happiness when they least expect it! Oh, I’m _praying_ someone makes a movie about it.”

That reminded Fareeha; she had to buy more books for the Witch.

“Think this is a good shade?” Hana asked. She put a dab of foundation on her palm and held it up to Fareeha’s face.

“Hmmmm….” Emily gazed at the color. She was comparing it to some foundation that she found.

“What do you mean, ‘a good shade?’”

“If we don’t get the foundation close to your skin color, it’d…well, it’d look really, really bad,” Hana said. “It’d be really obvious you were wearing makeup, and it’s supposed to help everything out, not do the work for you. And I think this is a good match.”

“Na, it’s gotta be this,” Lena said, popping next to her with another bottle.

“Ooh, that _is_ a good color.”

“Nice find, Lena!”

“Tracer always swoops in with the save!” Lena said proudly. “Now let’s give it a shot and see what we got!”

“First thing, we got to wash and moisturize your face, and get a primer,” Emily said. “That’s to get your skin ready for the makeup.”

Emily ran off and came back with some towelettes. When she came back, she gently washed Fareeha’s face, and applied a moisturizer sample the store had.

“Now that you’re skin is ready, let’s get the foundation on. Here, you start with dots. Once the dots are in place, you smooth it out.”

“I feel like some race car at a pit stop,” Fareeha groaned.

“Oh shush you,” Lena said. “I’ve always wanted to do this to you.”

“What? Really?”

“Hey, Hana’s right, you’ve got great skin. You’re a cracking fit bird now, but imagine what you could do if you put some work in on it! And now we actually get to teach you!”

“I’m not gay, but I have to say you’re looking really damn good,” Hana said, “and we barely started!”

With the dots of foundation in place, Lena used a brush to apply it all, explaining the proper way to apply the foundation. The second she was done, Hana was there with a sponge to blend it all, giving her pointers as she went. The very second she was done, Emily was there, applying a concealer, sharing her own tips and tricks.

“Did you rehearse this?” Fareeha asked. “You’re all moving in perfect sync.”

“I guess we all just clicked,” Emily smiled. “Teaching this is actually quite a lot of fun. And now we can show you highlights!”

“There’s so much about makeup I don’t know…”

“Which is where we come in,” Lena said. “Emily’s right, this actually is pretty fun. Informative, too!”

Lena dabbed at her face, giving her pointers on the best ways to apply highlights and contours; Fareeha should’ve brought a notebook. Once the contours were done, they were showing her how to apply makeup to her eyebrows, then how to get her lashes right. Fareeha was scared they might poke her in the eye when the eyeliner came out, but it went on smoothly, and most importantly, painlessly.

“Hot damn,” Lena whistled, stepping back to admire her work. “If I wasn’t so taken with Emily…”

Hana held up a mirror. Fareeha barely recognized herself; she looked like a model. The foundation blended with her skin, making everything seem perfect and flawless, the highlights and contours helped bring out her cheekbones, and thanks to Lena, her eyebrows and eyelashes were on fucking point. Her Wadjet tattoo stood out, but if anything, it just added to the alluring look.

She looked like a smoky femme fatale from a spy movie.

“Yea, you look _hot_ ,” Hana smiled. “I’m thinking a dark lipstick, maybe something black or deep purple?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Emily said. “It’ll compliment her tattoo and hair color.”

“Someone say ‘lipstick?’” Lena sang, jumping in with a handful of containers.

“Seriously, did you all practice this?” Fareeha demanded.

Everyone ignored her, instead focusing on the different shades of lipstick that Lena found, everyone giving their own pointers and suggestions. It was overwhelming, but Fareeha was able to keep up with everything that was being given to her.

Her friends had tried, applied, wiped off, and applied more, teaching as they went.

“Now I think these are a right good color,” Lena said proudly.

“Lena, my love, I think you’re right,” Emily said.

“Check you out!” Hana said, holding up the mirror.

They had found a dark shade of lipstick. Looking harder, Fareeha saw that it was a very, very deep purple. It matched flawlessly with everything.

“Maybe throw in some light hair curling, and you’re a damn knockout,” Emily said.

“Cheap store-brand hair curler!” Hana said, running over with a display item. She gently ran it through Fareeha’s hair, and soon it fell in light curls down around her shoulders.

“I…is that me?”

“Damned right it is!” Lena laughed. “Us lipstick lesbians know how to have fun, don’t we?”

She could barely believe her eyes. Emily was right; she _was_ a certified knockout. Fareeha could already see the Witch swooning.

“Thank you. All of you. This was much more fun than I thought it would be; I was expecting this to be like school! But you were all really helpful.”

“Aw, it’s what we’re here for,” Emily said, giving her a tight hug. “We threw a lot at you, so the best thing for you is to practice yourself, and watch plenty of tutorials online.”

“I’d better get in line for—“

“Now hold on, luv,” Lena said. “We’re not gonna let you pay for this. You gotta go back to the Witch of the Wilds; this is on the house.”

“Lena, please, I know this can’t be cheap.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hana said. “This is fun, dolling you up.”

“Then at least let me get some food and drinks.”

“Ooh, a mimosa sounds lovely right now,” Emily said.

“Right then, we get the makeup, you get the drinks,” Lena said.

She missed being home, she missed her friends, but seeing what the makeup did to her made her want to run back to the Witch and knock her off her feet.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, who knew shopping and learning could be so exhausting?” Fareeha mumbled as she walked home. The winter sun had set long ago, but fortunately the weather was warming up; spring was around the corner.

She had long ago undid her mother’s scarf, not only because it wasn’t needed, but because she didn’t want to sweat the makeup off. She’d have to take a picture to see what the finished product would be like, and watch some internet tutorials.

“Mother, I’m home,” she said, gently opening the door to her mother’s house.

“Look who’s back,” the Soldier said. “How was—“

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Fareeha.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Jack, please, it’s me,” Fareeha said.

“No, you can’t be Fareeha. You’re much too pretty to be her.”

“Jack!”

“Is that my daughter?” Her mother said, walking into the room. She took one look and stopped dead in her tracks as well. “Who are you?”

“Mother, please…”

“She kinda looks like Fareeha,” the Soldier said.

“I _am_ Fareeha!”

“No, you can’t be,” her mother gasped, mock-shocked. “What happened to my lovely butch daughter? You give her back this instant!”

“Mother!”

Her mother couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

“Oh, by the gods, I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” she said. “Is this how you spent your day?”

“Yes, I wanted Lena, Emily, and Hana to teach me a few things.”

“Looks like they taught you a lot,” the Soldier laughed.

“A _lot_ more than I thought,” Fareeha admitted.

“What is this makeup for?” Her mother asked. “Does the Witch have another woman held else captive? Are you trying to put the moves on her?”

“Mother!”

“Come on, tell us!” Her mother smiled.

Her mother would never believe she was gunning for the Witch of the Wilds. What would she even say? The Witch had been the enemy of the realm for so long, Fareeha had no idea how her mother would react.

She’d worry about that another day.

“You would never believe me,” she said. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Fine, I won’t pry,” the Alchemist said, “but the second you feel like sharing, tell me!”

Fareeha doubted she’d ever tell her mother. She’d never believe her. Hell, she’d probably never forgive her for making a move on the Witch of the Wilds.

“Come on, take your shoes off, we have dinner ready,” the Alchemist said. “Oh, this is such a shock! You know us Amaris aren’t ones for putting on makeup. This is just such a strange turn!”

“But seriously, kid, you look like a knockout,” the Soldier said. “You’re gonna break a lotta hearts looking like that.”

“Hopefully I’ll _win_ a heart, not _break_ it,” Fareeha said.

Heartbreak? That gave her another idea; she made a mental note to pack her finest lingerie before she left. If she was calling in the big guns, she might as well go all the way. Just thinking of how the Witch might react made a grin threatened to break free; Fareeha had to really fight it to keep it under wraps.

 

* * *

 

She was on her self-imposed last day in the realm, and Fareeha still had to find some books for the Witch. She couldn’t help but think about the beautiful smile and the boundless joy the Witch had when she opened her present. She’d buy her every single trashy romance book ever printed if she got to see that smile again.

Her heart fluttering, Fareeha walked to Mei’s book store. It was getting to noon; hopefully she’d catch Mei before she closed for lunch.

She opened the door, ringing a little chime. She didn’t see Mei at the register. Was she already on lunch?

“Hello?”

Mei had to be here; the door was open, the sign said they were open, but where could she be?

“Hello? Mei, are you here?” She said, walking into the store.

She heard hushed mumblings and a stern whisper from somewhere deep in the store.

“Mei? Is that you?”

“C-coming!” The flustered Mei yelled back. “Just give me a second!”

Mei ran out from the bookshelves at the back of the store, blushing furiously and tugging at her shirt.

“Fareeha? Oh, thank the gods it’s just you,” Mei said with a sigh of relief.

“What do you mean, ‘just me?’”

“Uh, well…”

“Ah, Fareeha! I heard you were back!”

Zarya walked out behind Mei. Unlike Mei, who was trying to seem inconspicuous, Zarya strolled out carelessly, while casually putting a shirt back on. Her pants were partially unzipped, and belt unbuckled.

That flagrant display of grandiosity only made Mei blush harder.

“Zarya, what are you doing?!” She demanded.

“Ah, I get it,” Fareeha laughed. “Helping her out doing a little ‘rearranging?’”

“That’s _exactly_ what we were doing,” Zarya grinned, buckling her belt. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Zarya, someone could’ve walked in!” Mei protested.

“Bah, it’s just out good friend,” Zarya said, kissing Mei. “She’s seen worse.”

“What?!”

“Not from Zarya,” Fareeha said. “But there was that one time that Lena dated a fellow Maiden, and she was a bit of an exhibitionist.”

“Lena, an exhibitionist?” Mei gasped.

“No, her girlfriend Amélie was,” Fareeha said. “That’s probably why they didn’t last.”

“You think this is bad?” Zarya said. “Be glad you didn’t walk in on them. Lena would try to cover up, but Amélie wouldn’t stop…”

“I get it, I get it, I get it,” Mei said, cringing. “Now, if you’re done embarrassing me, I’d like to help a customer out.”

“I’m sorry, Мое солнце, can you forgive me?” Zarya said, giving her another kiss.

“Oh fine, but just this once,” Mei chuckled.

“If you need more time to ‘rearrange,’ I can always leave,” Fareeha said.

“No, it’s time for business now,” Mei said, giving Zarya a look. Zarya responded by giving her another kiss, which made her smile despite herself. “What can we get you?”

Fareeha was about to ask if there were any more romance books, but realized that Zarya was there. It was bad enough that Mei know, but Zarya? Now it was her turn to blush.

“Uh, nothing,” she stammered. “I’ll just drop by later…”

“Oh, are you getting books for ‘your friend?’” Mei smiled mischievously.

“No! I’m fine!”

“Books are a good gift,” Zarya said. “What are you looking for?”

“No, please, I don’t need any—“

“She was getting some romance books on Christmas,” Mei grinned.

“What?!” Zarya gasped.

“They’re for a friend!” Fareeha yelled.

“Aah, yes, a ‘friend,’” Zarya said. “I understand you.”

“You’re just as bad as Mei!”

“No, Mei is much worse than I. You don’t want to get on the Ice Queen’s bad side, she’ll freeze you solid.”

“Come on, there are a few that came out,” Mei grinned wolfishly. She waved at Fareeha to follow her.

It felt like she would burst into flames, but the damage was already done. Gritting her teeth, she followed Mei and Zarya.

“Here you go,” Mei said happily, handing her two new books. They both had Fabios with washboard abs and long, flowing locks of hair, and two women in various stages of disrobing.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Zarya laughed.

“I’m being serious, they’re for a friend,” Fareeha said.

“Aren’t all guilty pleasures?”

“You’re not helping!”

“I’m not _trying_ to help,” Zarya laughed.

“ _Now_ you’re just the worst…”

“Care to get any more?” Mei said. That wolfish grin was creeping back onto her face. “We have a deal coming up for Valentine’s Day; I could bump it up and to give you the discount.”

Being given to the Witch of the Wilds meant she didn’t have a full-time job. She still received a stipend from the Maidens, which the king graciously allowed her to tax as combat time for being given to the Witch, but it wasn’t the same as having a true job. And given how much she ate and drank with Lena, Emily, and Hana the day before, any discount would be welcome.

“Fine,” she grumbled, grabbing a few more books at random.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Mei said cheerfully.

_The Witch better love these books,_ Fareeha thought bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zarya calls Mei “my sun.”  
> I was real tempted to go with Brigitte.Va, but I like Luci.Va *just* a little bit more. That, and we needed a token straight girl :P


	14. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our birbs finally get their date, and Fareeha swings for the fences.

Fareeha made her way back to the Witch’s mansion, both the newly bought makeup and books sitting secure in her pack, as well as two sets of her finest lingerie. Just thinking about the sheer items made her grin uncontrollably, not to mention how it made her feel so hot and bothered.

“The Witch better take this bait,” she laughed to the woods.

She knew she should be on her guard for the cobblestone road, but just thinking about her eventual seductions made her too giddy to give much pause to the dangerous road. But nothing happened. She was expecting to be swept up in some romantic fantasy of her finally winning the Witch’s heart, but she was able to keep her mind from wandering.

But nothing happened. Was she not appetizing to the creature that made the cobblestone road? Was she too focused on the Witch to notice? Was it trying to lure her into a false sense of security? She would have to hold onto the vellum map, and stay on her guard.

Whatever it was, being able to freely pass the cobblestone road scared her more than it should have. She actually wanted to be tempted; being able to walk about unhindered just seemed wrong. She spent the entire trip waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Fareeha made her way to the mansion, walking past the frozen metal Omnic golems. They were becoming as commonplace as the Reaper, which gave Fareeha a little pause. She was getting used to seeing an unholy killer perform farming duties, and seeing soulless monstrosities standing about like decorations. What else would she get used to when she lived with the Witch of the Wilds?

She carefully opened the door to the mansion. The Witch wasn’t in the ballroom; that was good.

“Hello?”

There was no answer. That was even better. But Fareeha had to be sure.

“Hello? Ms. Witch of the Wilds, are you here?”

Again, the mansion didn’t respond. Her voice echoed a bit, but even after waiting a full minute, there was no response. That meant that the Witch wasn’t there.

It didn’t matter where the Witch was, as long as she wasn’t in the mansion. Fareeha peeled off her boots, and ran to the kitchen. The Witch liked her wine, more specifically her white wine. It made for the best spot for her little gift.

Taking one of the trashy paperbacks from her backpack, Fareeha looked around for some string. She found a spool of it in one of the many drawers in the kitchen. It didn’t matter where the string came from, it just mattered that she found some.

Tying a few quick knots around the trashy romance paperback, she went to the wine cabinet. She picked the third bottle of white wine, and tied the book to it. That way, the next time the Witch summoned the next bottle of wine, she’d get a book as well.

With that taken care of, Fareeha jogged over to the ballroom/living room. The Witch seemed to favor a few sofas that littered the ballroom, so it seemed like a good place to plant another book. She picked two sofas, and hid two paperbacks behind one of each sofa’s pillows.

Fareeha realized that the Witch could discover more than one book at a time. But she shook her head; it didn’t matter when the Witch found the books, it only mattered that the Witch would actually find them.

With the newest stash of books hidden, Fareeha went back to her room to unpack. First, she lined her makeup on the top of the dresser, with the cheap hair curler that Hana bought for her. Next, she took her lingerie out and put it in the top most shelf of the dresser the Witch let her use. Just thinking of the long game she was playing was getting her excited. Later on, she’d have to draw a bath and say hello to the little man in the canoe, just to bleed some stress off. Then again, why would she have to wait? It wasn’t like she was on a schedule or anything, and from the looks of it, she had the entire floor to herself, if not the mansion.

Fareeha went to the attached bath and began filling the tub with warm water. She needed this something bad.

The tub was small, but incredibly deep. Was it carved from rock? It was some kind of black-colored stone. And it was cold to the touch. Fareeha hoped it would warm up, or her soak would be short lived.

She turned on the water and set it to the hottest setting. The room immediately steamed up. If she blinked, she could have easily missed it. Fareeha tested the water and nearly burned herself. She tinkered with the settings until she got it to just below scalding. Perfect.

The water poured out with the force of a tsunami. She was used to the high water pressure in the shower, but the tub surprised her. Where was it all coming from? Then she remembered that the entire mansion was magic.

The cavernous tub was filled with water faster than she expected. Fareeha killed the water, peeled off her clothes, and got into the tub. The entire room was filled with mist and steam, and the smoother than expected rock tub had absorbed enough of the water’s heat that it seemed to radiate warmth itself. She sighed as she stretched out and let the warmth worm its way deep into her bones, unkinking her muscles, and making her really hot and bothered. Now _this_ was the life.

 

* * *

 

She had spent so much time in the bath that her skin was getting wrinkly. Even though she had spent at least forty minutes in the tub, the water was still warm. This tub was something magical.

Groaning, Fareeha pulled the stopper, and the water began to drain. She got up, and grabbed a nearby towel. She took her time drying herself off, and rummaging through her closet. The Witch had given her a few plush robes; as tempting as it was, she didn’t want to be walking through the mansion in only a robe; at least, not now. Fareeha put on her sleepwear and made her way down to the kitchen.

Just as she was hoping, the Witch was there. Strangely enough, she was in her costume, the scandalously cut dress that showed off both her breasts and stockinged legs.

It was the same costume she wore on every All Hollow’s Eve, not to mention last year’s, when she had taken Fareeha.

“You’re all dressed up,” she said, walking towards the table the Witch sat at.

“Oh, you’re back. I was just attending business,” the Witch sighed. She wasn’t drinking any wine; instead, she was reading the next book that Fareeha had gotten her for Christmas. It didn’t seem that the Witch had found the new books.

“What business is that?” She asked, sitting opposite the Witch. “Making sure everything stays balanced?”

“That’s exactly it,” the Witch said. “There was a major disruption in the ley lines, and I had to straighten it out.”

“Nothing too bad?”

“Oh no, just a corporation that needed persuading to not build their new headquarters in a certain spot.”

“You didn’t cause any trouble, did you?”

“What do you take me for?” The Witch smiled. “I try to remain neutral, to _not_ be a threat, or at least not a hostile force whenever I can.”

“You know, we think you’re a pretty big threat.”

“Yes, everyone thinks I am,” the Witch sighed. “I try being civil, but when that fails, I usually have to resort to threats and promises.”

“You’ll actually attack them?”

“I don’t have to. Strange phenomena happen around disrupted ley lines. I just promise them bad things will happen, and when they do happen, they think of me, and the change is made.”

“You know, you could probably save a lot of time by acting friendly, or trying to make them allies.”

“Diplomacy is an excellent tool, but useless when you’re already perceived as a threat,” the Witch said. “I tried to be reasonable, but they saw me as a threat, and treated me as such. That limited my options. Kindness is a bad idea when it comes to a veteran Witch, one who is known and feared. But a new Witch? She could make some changes.”

“I get the feeling that you’re talking about yourself,” Fareeha said. “I don’t want to pry, but you can talk to me about this whenever you want to.”

The Witch gently closed the book.

“Thank you, but I’m happy alone,” she smiled.

“Are you now?”

“Y-yes, I am!”

“You’re not doing a very good job convincing me,” Fareeha grinned, holding her head in her hands.

“Then I’ll have to try harder.”

“Please do. All these mixed messages are killing me.”

“’Mixed messages?’” The Witch sputtered. “I thought I was being perfectly clear! You don’t have to stay here, you can leave at any time! Shit, I’d _like_ it if you would leave!”

“But you’re blushing right now,” Fareeha said. “You always seem to stutter over yourself when you tell me to go. And despite what you think, you’re actually very friendly and welcoming. That makes me think that you like me staying here.”

The Witch glared at her, color rising in her cheeks.

“Then I’ll have to do a better job telling you what I feel,” she finally said.

Fareeha had the distinct feeling that the Witch was talking to herself when she said that.

“Are you planning on leaving again?” The Witch asked. “Taking a long weekend?”

“Why, so you can have the mansion to yourself again? So you can get drunk and pass out all by your lonesome?” Fareeha smiled.

“What I do is none of your business,” the Witch snapped, but she was blushing again. “I’m asking because another holiday is coming up.”

“Holiday? Wait, you mean Valentine’s Day? That’s not a real holiday, that’s just for couples.”

“Don’t you have someone special back at the village?”

“Sorry, but back home, I’m an infamous eligible bachelorette,” Fareeha grinned.

“Oh!”

The Witch perked up at that, but quickly went back to scowling.

“See? There are those mixed messages again.”

“Then why don’t you go back and see your mother?” The Witch grumbled.

“Actually, I have a better idea,” Fareeha said. “You do a lot of cooking; why don’t you let me cook you a meal, give you a night off?”

“It would be nice to sit back and relax,” the Witch admitted.

“There’s just one thing,” Fareeha said, “this will be a date.”

“A date?”

“Yes. I’ll be pursuing you.”

“Hmm!” The Witch snorted, turning her nose up at the very idea. “Very well. And I’ll be proving that I’m not interested.”

“I don’t know, you really perked up when I said I was single,” Fareeha grinned.

“I—I was just surprised that you didn’t have someone,” the Witch stammered. “You seemed well-loved, I thought there was someone in your life.”

“Sorry, haven’t found that person yet. But that means I can’t stop looking now, does it?”

“Isn’t that the truth,” the Witch sighed. “You have to keep looking, see what life has to offer—what are you staring at?”

Fareeha had her head in her hands again, looking dead at the Witch’s eyes.

“You sure get me,” she smiled.

The Witch suddenly picked up on Fareeha’s double-talk.

“S-stop! I was trying to give you motivation to leave,” she insisted. “A reason to get out of my mansion and back to your own town! You can’t find a woman here.”

“But there _is_ a woman here.”

The Witch stood up in a huff. Her broom floated to her side, where she sat side-saddle.

“I’ll be taking my book to a library,” she said frostily as she floated out of the kitchen. “Maybe I can get some uninterrupted reading done there.”

“I’m glad you like the books I gave you,” Fareeha called out to her. It made the Witch squirm and re-cross her legs.

 

* * *

 

Valentine’s Day came quicker than Fareeha thought it would. She was so desperate for her date with the Witch, she thought time would crawl like it always did when she was counting down the days.

But cleaning the mansion kept her busy, not just because it was good busywork, but cleaning and re-ordering things helped calm her mind. She was on the third floor, which held the Witch’s three massive libraries, but she found something that surprised her.

Fareeha had opened a non-descript door, and suddenly found herself in a massive bathhouse. The ceiling was well over twenty feet, with pillars surrounding the room every ten feet. The room had a massive pool in the middle of it, easily Olympic length, but only deep enough to come up to the neck. Off to the sides were rooms encased with glass doors that seemed to be a variety of steam, sauna, and shower rooms, and behind the big pool were two smaller ones, each half the length of the main pool. One seemed to be a cold pool, the other a massive hot tub.

The room was shockingly modern, with neutral colored tiles and tall panes of glass. The room was warm, but not hot, and smelled of lavender.

“She has a damn bathhouse here?” Fareeha cursed. “Just how big is this damned mansion?!”

She walked through the room, too stunned to talk. But Fareeha did have enough of her wits about to take off her shoes.

Dipping her hand into the pool in the middle of the room, she was surprised that it was still very warm and welcoming. The pool was deep enough to nearly submerge herself in, but the pool had a shelf that extended a foot out, making it seem like a big, submerged bench. The side rooms on the left of the pool were steam rooms, while the ones to the right were saunas. Both had fine wooden benches that matched the tiles and glass.

“I’ll have to come up here more often,” she said.

Fortunately, the bathhouse was decently clean. Not to her comfortable level of cleanliness, but there wasn’t anything growing in the grout. That meant that it would be an easy, if not tedious, clean.

“The Witch is holding out on me!”

That discovery had tided her over until her first official date with the Witch came up. She put aside any other cleaning, and began thinking of what to make. Fortunately, the Witch gave her free-reign to raid her larder.

Seeing what the Witch had stocked, Fareeha decided to pull out all the stops. The magically-cooled larder had a cut, dressed, and sectioned up cow; no doubt a sacrifice made by the herd. She wondered if the Reaper was the one who did the deed.

“Well, no point in wasting this.”

Taking a good cut of ground beef, she went to the kitchen to start cooking. Living a bachelorette life gave her some cooking skills, and she was glad to put them back to use. She put on a pot of water to boil some pasta, while she began making the sauce. She hummed to herself happily as she worked.

Soon, the meal was ready. Now all she had to do was get dressed up for the date, and everything would be ready.

“This smells heavenly.”

That made Fareeha jump. The Witch had snuck up on her, a grin on her face. She wore her sleepwear, not even a decent pair of pants.

“Thank you,” Fareeha said. “Sorry, I was planning on cleaning myself up. I’m still wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“You’re fine,” the Witch said.

“I’m not ready for a date.”

“You think this is a date; I don’t.”

Damn. The Witch was playing for keeps. And she was actually looking forward to putting on the makeup she got!

“But you agreed to a date,” she said. “I told you, I would be pursuing you.”

The Witch frowned.

“Fine,” she said. “You win that.”

“I don’t want to win anything,” Fareeha said, “I want to have a date, and I want you to have a good time. How about this: we don’t have to get dressed up, but we have to acknowledge that this _is_ a date. Does that sound good?”

And she was actually looking forward to wearing her makeup! But as much as she wanted to put it on, she wanted the Witch to be comfortable. It seemed like a reasonable sacrifice; she’ll just use it the next time they went on a date.

Hearing her proposal took the Witch back. She stared at Fareeha, as if she forgot what she was going to say.

“O-or maybe we can postpone,” Fareeha suggested. “Give you time to think about this.”

“No, it’s a good compromise,” the Witch said. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m not used to people trying to find middle ground with me.”

“Let me guess: everyone tries to pull a fast one on you, get you at a disadvantage?”

“Exactly. But this…I’m not used to it. But it is good middle ground. We’ll let this be a date.”

“Good! I want you to have a good time!”

Fareeha found a few clean dishes and set the table. She would have to get to cleaning the kitchen soon; the mess was really starting to get to her.

“I present to you: linguine with white ragù, and a side of caramelized brussels sprouts with sun-dried tomatoes and pine nuts.”

“My word, I wasn’t expecting a full-course meal,” the Witch said as Fareeha put the serving plates on the table.

“I told you, this is me chasing you,” she winked.

“A-and I didn’t expect you to make such a meal.” Fareeha couldn’t help but smile at the poor, stammering Witch.

“I’m a Shield-Maiden; I have to stay fit,” she said. “And nutrition is the first step of staying fit. It doesn’t matter how much you work out; if you eat crap, you’ll feel like crap, and you’ll perform like crap.”

“A fair point. Hmm, white ragù, you say? White wine pairs well with that.”

The Witch raised her hand and Fareeha suddenly remembered the book she tied to one bottle of white wine.

“No, I got it,” she said, gently setting her hand on the Witch’s. “Please, let me.”

“It’s not a problem, I can summon a bottle.”

“But I don’t want you to do any work,” she said. “Please, allow me.”

“Oh. Well, since you asked so nicely, you may.”

Grinning at the Witch, Fareeha ran to the closet that held the wine. She didn’t want her newest book to be found too easily, or give the impression she was trying too hard. Her book was still there, tied to the third bottle of white wine. She grabbed the fifth bottle in line, just to be safe, and went back to the table.

She dished out the pasta and brussels sprouts, and  poured the wine.

“This smells fantastic,” the Witch said.

“Thank you. This is one of my guilty pleasures; it’s a little too heavy on the cream to be eaten before or after working out.”

“Oh, it _is_ good!”

“I’m so glad you like it,” Fareeha smiled, helping herself. “I found something interesting today.”

“What did you find?”

“A bathhouse. You were holding out on showing me a bathhouse?”

“You never asked,” she demurely laughed. But there was a strain behind the laughter, like she was putting on airs.

“Oh, don’t give me that.”

“I’m sorry, but that room…it is a bit private,” the Witch said. “I’d rather you not use it.”

“Would you mind if I clean it? I’d hate to leave that the only room that didn’t get a good washing.”

The Witch stared at the pasta, as if she was making up her mind.

“If you never want me to go into it again, I can do that,” Fareeha said. “But I figured you’d at least like it nice and clean when you use it.”

“I haven’t used that bathhouse in…oh gods, in decades,” the Witch mumbled, lost in memory. “No, not decades, centuries; several centuries.”

“Centuries? Why not? It looks nice, and very relaxing.”

“Personal reasons,” the Witch said with finality.

Fareeha could hear it in her voice; the Witch’s melancholy was returning. Her heart froze and her stomach dropped out from under her. She didn’t want to get the Witch depressed on their first date!

_Gods, please don’t let me fuck this up,_ she prayed.

“I understand. I’m sorry for prying.”

“But if you want to clean it, I can let you do that,” the Witch said. “It’s awfully big, though. Would you like some help?”

“You’ll help me clean that massive bathhouse?”

“I’d rather not set foot into it, but I can ask the Reaper for you.”

“The Reaper? Help me clean?”

“He could use something to do. Normally he helps with the farm, but with the winter, there’s not too much for him to do.”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t seen the Reaper around too much. Where does he go?”

“When he’s not tending to the animals, he’s usually in his coffin.”

“The Reaper has a coffin he sleeps in?”

“Does it surprise you?”

“I’m surprised he’s that damned cliché, that’s what I’m surprised about!”

That got the Witch to laugh, lifting whatever melancholy was threatening to spill over. It felt good to see her smile.

“Nothing so dramatic, or at least by his own choice,” she laughed. “It’s part of his pact with me.”

“And you can’t tell me because of magician-patient privileges, right?” Fareeha grinned.

“That’s exactly it.”

“You are a wonderful woman of mystery, you know that?”

“Stop it,” the Witch blushed. “I’m just some old woman living out in the enchanted forest.”

“Who rides a broom, knows magic, and looks damn good in a dress.”

“M-maybe not just an old woman…” the Witch said, re-crossing her legs.

It looked like Fareeha was able to chase away the melancholy; just a little more would make her feel better.

“So just how big is this place?” She asked. “The ballroom seems to take up a few floors, the libraries are huge, and the hallway on the fourth floor is a damn circle. What kind of house would have a curved hallway when the building is a giant square?”

“It’s as big as we want it to be,” the Witch said. “The other Witches have made their own additions. You found the cigar room, no? One Witch was a connoisseur, and decided to make her own room to hold her collection.”

“How did she make the room? I can’t exactly see you getting out a hammer and saw and cutting into the walls.”

“Heavens no! That’d be too much work!” The Witch laughed. “We use our magic.”

“Magic? I should’ve known!”

“It makes everything easy,” the Witch smiled, taking a sip of wine. Fareeha was expecting her to go through a few glasses, but the Witch seemed to be savoring the wine. She was barely done with one glass, and the meal was half over. “This entire mansion is built on a massive convergence of ley lines. Because of that, it’s more magical than any other place on earth. We keep the ley lines secure, balanced, and we can make any adjustments to this place as we see fit.”

“So you can just make rooms out of thin air?”

“There’s more work to it than that, but yes, that’s the idea. We can feel the veil of reality, and can push it around, molding it into what we want. Rooms are simple enough that we can make them and change them at will.”

“When you say they’re simple, you mean they don’t take much magic to make?”

“Exactly.”

“So you don’t risk putting too much magic into a room, and having it develop a mind of its own, yes?”

“That’s exactly it,” the Witch said. “Bad enough that there are relics that can technically think for themselves, like the Oculus and Ocular, but could you imagine a room that decided what happened inside it?”

“That’s some real horror story stuff.”

“Too right. There is always the chance it can be benevolent, or even an uncaring or apathetic neutral, but if it turned malevolent, that’s a risk that’s too much to bear.”

“That might actually make a good horror movie,” Fareeha said. Clearing her voice, she did her best movie-announcer voice. “’Attack of the Killer Room!’”

“Stop it, you shouldn’t tempt fate,” the Witch laughed.

“’What happens when you want to leave the room, but the room wants you to stay? FOREVER???”

“Gods, you’re the worst!”

“’From the minds who brought you ‘Trapped! With the Lovely Witch,’ and ‘The Farming Reaper’ comes the next horrifying tale that will keep you glued to your seat!’”

“Stop it, this is too much!” The Witch laughed.

It felt good to laugh with the Witch. Fareeha realized that she could watch the Witch laugh forever. Her tinkling laughter, the glint of her cerulean eyes, the smile that lit up her face, it was beautiful perfection.

She wanted this moment to last forever.

“Oh, damn you, if I keep laughing this much, I might pull a muscle,” the Witch said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“That would be the best injury you could get,” Fareeha smiled.

“The best,” the Witch agreed. “Well, you’ve learned enough about my dull life. What made you want to be a Shield-Maiden?”

“You’re asking about me?”

“Of course. You always want to talk about me, but I know so little about you.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile. Despite the misstep at the beginning, this was turning into a great date. She pushed her empty plate to the side.

“Well, it all started when I was born…” she sighed dramatically.

“Stop! Will I ever get a straight answer from you?”

“I’m being serious,” Fareeha said. “Duty runs in the Amari family. My mother, her father, his grandmother before him, they all swore an oath to the Wilhelm royal bloodline. We were one of the first families to bend the knee to the Throne, and remain dedicated to this day.”

“Your parents must be proud.”

“My mother is. My father…wasn’t around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine, I grew up with just my mother. She was more married to her work than any other man. All Shield-Maidens are, but when I was growing up, she took a vow of chastity and dedicated herself to two things: raising me, and the Shield-Maidens. That lasted until she found the Soldier; they married twelve years ago.”

“My word, duty does run deep.”

“It does,” she said proudly. “Trying out for the Shield-Maidens was a no-brainer for me. I was practically groomed for it.”

“You must be the face of the order,” the Witch smiled. “A perfect mixture of beauty, grace, and dedication to the order.”

Hearing that made Fareeha’s heart flutter.

“Maybe now I am,” she said. “But I just want to be a good soldier.”

“I’d be careful with that wish.”

“What? Why?”

“Just…” the Witch shook her head. “Let’s just say it’s a bad experience. Never compromise your honor for anything.”

“I don’t plan on  it.”

“Then you shouldn’t be here, carousing with the enemy,” the Witch winked as she finished her wine.

“I’m not carousing, I’m having a date,” Fareeha smiled.

“With the enemy.”

“You mean a lonely old woman cooped up in her giant mansion.”

“Touché.”

“Are you having a good time?”

The Witch was about to speak, but paused.

“I should say no, but that would be a lie,” she said, color rising in her cheeks.

“Then you’re having a good time?” Fareeha slyly grinned.

“You want me to say it, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’m having a good time, but I would have a _great_ time if you were enjoying yourself.”

“Fine, you win. I’m having a lovely night.”

“Then this night got even better,” Fareeha laughed.

“But it must come to an end. We’ve been sitting in front of these empty dishes for nearly the entire evening.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, no?”

“It does, it does. It’s been too long since it went by this quick.”

“Can I walk you back to your room?”

“What? Why?” The Witch sputtered.

“Normally I’d walk my date back to their ride, or to their place if they were comfortable with it,” Fareeha said. “We’re already in your mansion, but I still feel like I need to walk you back to somewhere.”

“I’m so glad that chivalry isn’t dead,” the Witch said, a smile creeping at her lips.

Fareeha got up before the Witch could, and offered her a hand. The Witch demurely took it, and Fareeha walked with her to the stairs.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of anything. The Witch didn’t seem to mind as they walked up to the fourth floor, in front of the Witch’s doors.

“Your room,” Fareeha said with a slight flourish.

“You’re too kind.”

The Witch paused, as if she was wrestling with something in her head.

“I shouldn’t,” she mumbled. “I know what would happen, and you know that you shouldn’t stay here.”

“What do you—”

The Witch cut her off by giving her a quick kiss. Fareeha was so stunned, she barely had the chance to take the Witch’s hand and pull her close. Not that it mattered; the Witch darted into her room and closed the doors.

Fareeha stood outside of the room, trying to figure out what happened.

“She kissed me,” she said. “I got a kiss!”

She gave a whoop as she headed back down to her room. This was the best date she’d ever had.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha woke with the sun, and practically pranced down the stairs. Sure enough, the Witch was already in the kitchen, dressed in her Witch dress.

“Good morning,” Fareeha sang.

“Good morning to you, my lovely houseguest,” the Witch said. Just seeing Fareeha grin like a loon made her blush.

“I wanted to thank you for the wonderful date, but you ran away from me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” the Witch said. “But it _was_ a lovely date.”

“I’m glad we can call it that!”

“Yes,” the Witch said. “Reaper? Can you come here?”

Smoke poured over the ground, twisting and turning about like a snake as it made its way across the ground. It collected at the Witch’s feet, and the Reaper rose from the smoke.

Fareeha had spent too much time around the Witch; seeing that barely startled her.

“Fareeha here is doing some cleaning,” the Witch said. “She is thinking of cleaning the bathhouse. Would you like to help her?”

The Reaper grunted.

“You can always say no.”

“I can help.”

“Thank you, Reaper,” the Witch said. “Once Fareeha is done eating, you can help her. If you want, you can listen to her instead of me.”

The Reaper grunted.

“I have to catch up on some work,” the Witch said. “There are some ley lines that need straightening, balance that must be restored. Once you’re done eating, you can ask the Reaper to help you. But please, be polite with him. Oh, and there’s oatmeal and raisins on the stove for your breakfast.”

The Witch summoned her broom, and floated out of the kitchen. Fareeha watched her, making sure the Witch knew she was watching.

“You know where the soap and brushes are?” She asked the Reaper.

The Reaper grunted in the affirmative.

“Can you please get them? I’d like to start soon.”

“Sure,” he said, and drifted off.

Fareeha grabbed a bowl, ate quickly, then ran to the bathhouse, taking the stairs three at a time. She got a kiss, from the Witch! She didn’t steal it, it was given to her! Fareeha wanted to scream it to the skies.

She pushed open the door to the bathhouse. It was exactly as she left it.

Soon the Reaper came in, carrying a few buckets, soap, and brushes. There were even a few brushes mounted to mop handles, so they didn’t have to stay on their knees the entire time.

“Let’s get to work,” Fareeha said. “We’ll start at the back, and move our way towards the door.”

The Reaper grunted, handing her a bucket.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha carried a bucket of dirty water, closing the bathhouse door with her foot. The bathhouse was huge, and was taking days to complete. But they were making progress, which helped take the monotony out of the task.

As she walked down the stairs the ballroom, she saw the Witch lounging in the massive ballroom-turned-living room. She had moved a sofa up to one of the many large windows, and was staring out at the forest. Winter was giving way to spring, slowly but surely. The snow was melting, and the trees were beginning to bud. The Witch stared out the window; she hadn’t moved all day; the only thing that changed were the number of empty wine bottles that sat on the other end of the sofa, and the dwindling supply of cigars she had taken from the smoking room she had on the third floor.

Fareeha knew there was a cigar room in the mansion, but she neither saw the Witch smoke before, nor drink so heavily. She was still in her sleepwear, something that rarely happened; normally the Witch was quick to change to some casual wear, a pair of pants or a long dress. The last time the Witch drink that heavily was before Christmas, when she showed Fareeha the Oculus and Ocular, and her ultimate fate. Fareeha’s heart ached just seeing the Witch wallow away the day. Something had to change.

She went outside to dump the dirty water out, and re-filled the bucket. She made her way back to the bathhouse to look for the Reaper. She found him where she left him; cleaning the tiles of one of the many steam rooms, just as she asked him to do.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked.

“Yes,” the Reaper grunted.

She couldn’t help but shake her head. It was like the Reaper enjoyed doing _anything_ that he was told to do.

“The Witch is…out of it,” she said. “Do you know why that is?”

“It’s her birthday today,” the Reaper said. “She gets this way every year.”

That took Fareeha by surprise.

“It’s her birthday?”

“Yes.”

“She never told me!”

“She never tells anyone.”

“Then how do you know?”

“One year, she asked if I knew how to make a cake.”

“You bake?!”

“When I was human, when I was alive, my parents weren’t around much. I had to take care of my brothers and sisters.”

“Oh.” Did the Reaper answer any question given to him? “Thank you for telling me.”

The Reaper grunted. He never stopped working.

The Witch’s birthday was today? She had to do something, if only to get her out of her funk. Then an idea popped into her head. It was a simple idea, a _naughty_ little idea, and a plan quickly formed around it. It made Fareeha giddy. Laughing to herself, she ran off to her room. Soon it would be night, the perfect time to launch this raunchy little plan of hers.

 

* * *

 

Night fell, and with it, the candles and fires that lit up the mansion. Fareeha spied on the Witch all day, waiting for when she retired to her room. Once she saw the Witch trudge upstairs, she sprang into action. It was time to crank her seduction game up to eleven and swing for the fences.

She showered, using plenty of shampoo and conditioner on her hair. She made sure to use the lavender-scented wash, and came out smelling like a bouquet of flowers. Fareeha was so energetic; she waited all day for this.

Standing in front of her mirror, she took a deep breath to steady her hands, and carefully began applying moisturizer and primer before bringing out the foundation, just like how Emily, Lena, Hana, and dozens of YouTube videos taught her. She highlighted and contoured, but went easy on the eyeliner, nearly poking herself in the eye, and added the lipstick to compliment everything. She quickly curled her hair to give it volume and the perfect sultry curl.

She looked herself over in the mirror. Her foundation was on perfectly, not too thick and not clumped up, the contours and highlights stood out perfectly, the eyeliner brought out her Wadjet tattoo under her right eye, and the lipstick was a subtle color that made her lips pop.

“Lena is right, I am fucking _hot_ ,” she laughed.

With her makeup done, she dressed, and wrapped herself in a newly washed plush robe. She took a minute to strike a few poses, just to play around and to see what would look best. Barefoot, she lightly sprang up the stairs towards the Witch’s massive bedroom, her heart pounding with excitement. Sometimes, she had the best ideas.

Reaching the Witch’s door, she took a second to compose herself, and pose next to the door to seem the most alluring. She knocked. She heard the Witch moving about inside the room, eventually getting to the door. Fareeha was dead certain that her naughty idea would cure whatever ailed the Witch.

“Yes?” The Witch groaned. She was still dressed in her sleepwear; she never spent the entire day lounging about. Her long golden hair was in tangles, with more than a few knots.

And the very second she looked at Fareeha, she stopped dead in her tracks. Just looking at Fareeha made the Witch come to a full stop and blush, shocked to see her look so ravishingly beautiful. Fareeha could practically hear the Witch’s mind slam to a halt. She wished she could read the Witch’s mind, but she could easily guess what the Witch was thinking: _fuck._

“I heard it was your birthday,” she said, excitement creeping into her voice. She couldn’t help but bite her lower lip to add to the seductress look.

The Witch stood there for a second, then shook her head, as if she was trying to ignore her devastatingly beautiful houseguest. She did her best to scowl.

“Who told you that?” She snapped. “Was it that damned Reaper? What the fuck did you ask him?”

“I just asked why you were in such a mood. Don’t blame him.”

“Oh, I will. He just does whatever is fucking asked of him. That crappy loophole in his pact is coming back to bite me in the ass,” she spat. But at the same time, she was switching between openly staring at Fareeha, and looking over her shoulder so she wouldn’t be distracted. Every time she looked at Fareeha, she would quickly look away, like she was caught spying on her. “Yes, it _is_ my birthday. You better not have gotten my anything.”

“Why not?” Fareeha pouted and twirled her hair, hoping the Witch would notice her lipstick and curled locks.

“I-I’m just sick and fucking tired of that day,” the Witch grumbled, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Fareeha could hear the stress in her voice: the Witch wanted to ignore her, to pass her up, but with her makeup game on point, it was getting harder and harder to do so. “Presents are for shitty, bratty children. I don’t need them, and I don’t need to be reminded of how much time has passed.”

The Witch was doing her best to ignore her! Here she was, perfectly dolled up, smelling like fresh-cut flowers, all but laying herself out for the Witch to take, and the damn Witch was trying to push her away. Fareeha needed to do something even _more_ dramatic, and she needed to do it now.

Well, if she was going for the broke…

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said, trying to hide her grin.

“Oh, thank the Old Gods for that—“

Fareeha reached out and gently grabbed the Witch’s shirt, pulled her close, and gave her a long, deep, passionate kiss. When she let the Witch go, the poor woman was somehow blushing even _harder_.

“I didn’t get you a present; I _am_ your present.”

Fareeha slowly, tantalizingly undid her robe; it was practically a strip-tease. The Witch’s eyes were glued to her body as she teased the poor woman. It looked like the Witch wouldn’t be able to move even if she wanted to. Underneath the robe, Fareeha was wearing her best lingerie, a matching set of lace push-up bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings. Fareeha’s Shield-Maiden habits, her morning calisthenics, had kept her in top shape, especially her abs. She was fit and sexy, and she was _finally_ showing the Witch.

Fareeha finally let the plush robe fall to the ground. The poor Witch looked like she would burst into flames and pass out, all at the same time. A feather could knock her over.

“Don’t you want to unwrap me…?” Fareeha smiled, sex dripping from her voice.

The Witch’s reaction was the answer Fareeha was looking for.

An invisible force grabbed her; it was the Witch’s magic. Fareeha was lifted off her feet, and pulled into the Witch’s arms. The Witch mashed her lips against hers, hungrily sucking at her like Fareeha would run away at any moment, pulling at her hair like it was the only way to hold onto her.

Fareeha squealed as the Witch magicked them into her room; she could only hold on as the magic carried her across the floor, where she was thrown down onto her bed. It gave her a second’s reprieve before the Witch was on top of her to continue her assault.

Suddenly, Fareeha _was_ a present. The Witch kept her lips locked to Fareeha’s as she tore her clothes off, and began to greedily explored every nook of her body.

She should’ve done this weeks ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a solo ult :P


	15. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha might've bagged the Witch, but she ain't no one-night-stand kinda woman.  
> The morning after, she moves in for the kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to try a little multimedia shenanigans with this chapter. [Listen for full effect, Chief!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC-OfzBHRP8)

The sunlight woke Fareeha. She wanted to sleep more; she felt comfortable, safe, at peace. Then she realized that the Witch was lying across her, an arm draped over her stomach, her head resting on her shoulder.  

No wonder she felt safe.

She didn’t want to wake the Witch, but she couldn’t help but to wrap her arm around the sleeping woman, pulling her a little closer. She wanted nothing more than to have this moment last forever.

But she felt the Witch stirring. The sunlight was getting to her as well. Eventually, the Witch woke up, rolling her head up to see what was happening.

The Witch brushed back her long hair, looking at her with eyes that were still half asleep. Fareeha could get lost in those eyes. It was like she was diving into a bottomless sea.

“You’re still here,” the Witch mumbled.

“Did you really think I’d give you the old fuck-and-run?” Fareeha asked.

“I don’t know,” the Witch said, setting her head back down into her shoulder. “I just didn’t expect you to stay here.”

“I’m glad to disappoint you,” Fareeha laughed. “I’m just glad there’s no one else in this mansion.”

“Let me guess: you don’t want your mother walking in, catching you in bed with the wicked Witch of the Wilds?” The Witch laughed.

“No, it’s not that.”

The Witch looked back up, giving Fareeha a cocked eyebrow glare.

“Fine, _maybe_ me sleeping with the Witch of the Wilds has a little to do with it,” Fareeha groaned.

“Was that so hard?” The Witch laughed.

“Yes. But the real reason I’m glad no one is here is because I look like a domestic abuse victim.”

She pointed to her chest and neck. Her bra was the first thing that the Witch had torn off and flung somewhere across her massive room. The Witch blushed as she looked over Fareeha’s naked chest and neck, staring at the score of hickeys and bite marks she had left all over her.

“I’m sorry,” the Witch said, blushing deeply. She buried her head into Fareeha’s shoulder. “It’s just…it’s been a very long time.”

“I could tell!”

“No, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

The Witch was quiet, as if she was debating what to tell Fareeha.

“It’s been a long time since I was this happy.”

“Why’s that?”

The Witch laughed.

“You remember me talking about how old I am?”

“You mean when you said it was impolite to ask a woman her age?”

“Exactly that,” the Witch said. “When you get as old as I am, you just start ignoring things.” 

“Like how long it’s been since you’ve had a good lay? It was good, right? You liked it?”

“Of course I did! I thought I made that clear,” the Witch said, tracing a finger over one of her love marks.

“Then how long has it been?”

The Witch was quiet.

“Was it something I said?”

The Witch started shaking; she was crying.

“I—I just didn’t…”

“You didn’t what?”

“You remind me of my last love.”

The Witch was quiet, as if she was debating what to say. Fareeha didn’t know what to say; she pulled the Witch closer to her, and the Witch let her.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s—”

“Did you know that being the Witch of the Wilds makes me functionally immortal?”

“’Functionally immortal?’ What does that mean?”

“As long as I’m the Witch of the Wilds, I’ll never age. Baring violence, I cannot die.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course,” the Witch said. “No one else is.”

Fareeha was quiet as she played with the Witch’s long, golden hair.

“I watched her get old.”

That got Fareeha to stop.

“Can you imagine that? Never changing, but seeing everyone else change?” The Witch said. “Can you imagine watching your beloved growing old in front of you, withering and dying, while you stay the same? The same person you vowed to love and cherish until death did you part? Can you imagine seeing your closest friend falter and fade, passing in front of you while you were powerless to do anything?”

“I can’t.”

“Be glad that you can’t,” the Witch said. “That is not a fate I’d wish on my worst enemy. She grew old. I watched her age, I watched her hair turn gray. I watched her forget the faces of her family. I was the only one she’d ever remember, because I _never_ changed.

“I was her anchor, and I never knew what she’d remember. One day, she’d think that we were both young women learning how to be healers; the next, she was a grand-aunt. I went from being a friend to being a lover to being a caregiver.

“That’s why I live apart from everyone. This functional immortality is a curse, one that I don’t want to drag anyone down on.”

“But what about you?” Fareeha said. “What about _your_ happiness?”

The Witch was quiet. She rolled over so she wouldn’t have to look at Fareeha.

“What if I want to stay with you?” Fareeha asked. “Come whatever may?”

“I told you before: I would pity you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll see me stay the same, while you change.”

“Then I get to see you being a hot piece of ass throughout the years?” Fareeha laughed. “That seems like a win, especially if I turn into a wrinkled old woman.”

“Don’t say that,” the Witch snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s how I lost my lover. She saw me as the young girl she fell in love with, while she wasted away with the sands of time. I changed her diapers, and she never knew it.”

Fareeha went silent. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I really love you,” the Witch said. “I knew I loved you when you came back after Christmas, when I opened your present. And that’s what makes me sad, that’s why I kept trying to push you away, why I always told myself that I shouldn’t do this. I’ll see you pass in front of my eyes, and I would lose another part of myself. I made a promise to myself that I would never, ever feel that way again.”

“Then why don’t you join me?” Fareeha asked. “Why don’t you get old with me? You said the Witch of the Wilds is a position, one that can be passed on. Can you pass this immortality on, live with me?”

“And leave the next Witch of the Wilds alone?”

“You said that you picked up on your duties just fine, without a mentor,” Fareeha said. “Why can’t you trust the next Witch? Pass this burden along?”

“I’ve been the Witch of the Wilds for so long, I don’t think I can be anything else.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Fareeha laughed. “Where’s the struggle? Where’s the _growth?_ ”

“You’ve been waiting to use that on me, weren’t you?” The Witch grumbled.

“Just a little bit.”

The Witch tried giving her the cold shoulder, but Fareeha was already holding onto her. Suddenly, an idea flitted into her head. It was a simple idea, so simple she was surprised she didn’t think of it before.

“Can I make a pact with you?” Fareeha said.

It was like a switch was thrown on the Witch. A shiver went down her spine, and she jerked to attention.

“You want a pact,” she said darkly.

“It’s a simple pact.”

“This was your fucking plan all along, wasn’t it?” The Witch spat. She sat up, naked as the day she was born, with fury in her eyes. “Seduce me, get me in a position of weakness, and try to take advantage of it. Wasn’t it?!”

“Nothing so sinister,” Fareeha laughed. “The idea just came to me.”

“Then what’s your damned pact?”

“You live in the future,” Fareeha said, sitting up herself. “You see the big picture. You see it so well, you can’t see the trees for the forest.”

“The phrase is ‘seeing the forest for the trees,’” the Witch corrected.

“But seeing the forest for the trees means you see the details, not the big picture. But you see the big picture, and nothing else. The details are lost.”

That got the Witch to stop.

“I do, don’t I?” She mumbled, suddenly ashamed of her outburst.

Fareeha took the Witch’s hands.

“My pact is this: stop living in the future,” she said. “Live in the moment. Live with me, here and now. Don’t be the Witch of the Wilds, be the beautiful woman who lives alone in this giant mansion. If it makes you feel better, it doesn’t have to be forever; it can be until All Hallows’ Eve, when I was first given to you. Can you do that?”

Tears welled in the Witch’s eyes.

“A pact needs something given,” she mumbled, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “What would you give me?”

“Everything,” Fareeha said. “All that I am. I’ll be yours, and only yours.”

“But…I told you what happened to the last woman I loved,” she mumbled. “I told you, time and time again, that this would be a price that’s too high for you to pay. Even if it is only for the rest of the year, that is a full year of your life you could never get back, a full year you dedicate to me. Are…are you certain you want to do that?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Lips trembling, eyes watering, the Witch dove at Fareeha, wrapping her arms around her while burying her face in her shoulder.

“I accept.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile like a damned fool. She felt like she could fly.

“Just one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?” The Witch asked.

“What’s your name? I want to call you something other than ‘Witch.’ It just feels so cold and impersonal.”

The Witch was quiet for a long time. Fareeha realized she was crying, and held her tighter.

“I haven’t…I haven’t told anyone my name in such a long time,” she cried. “In centuries, no one has even thought to ask me. I was afraid I was forgetting.”

“I’m asking you, right here, right now,” Fareeha said. “Can you tell me your name?”

The Witch held her tighter.

“Angela,” she said. “My name is Angela Ziegler.”

Fareeha pulled her up, and looked into her gorgeous eyes.

“Hello, Angela Ziegler,” she smiled. “My name is Fareeha Amari. And I’m _very_ glad to make your acquaintance.”

Laughing through her tears, Angela showered her with kisses.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha was woken up by a gentle stirring. A certain someone was trying to get out of bed without waking her. Too bad she woke easily. Fareeha reached out and blindly grabbed the first thing she could get a hand on.

“Fareeha, please,” Angela groaned. “Let go of my pants.”

Looking up from the bed, blinking the sleep away, Fareeha saw that she had indeed grabbed the back of Angela’s pajama pants. Angela held onto them to keep them from sliding off, but she could see the white fabric of her panties in the gap between her hands and the pants.

“No.”

“Please, I have to get up.”

“No you don’t.”

“We both have to get up!”

“Get back here, help me sleep some more.”

“Unlike a certain someone, I have duties to attend to. Now let go.”

“No. I want to stay in this bed forever with you.”

“Gods, that was romantic the first few months you said that. Now it’s getting bothersome.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

Sighing, Angela snapped her fingers. For a brief second, her pants became immaterial, and they phased through her, letting her slip free of them without having to take them off properly. It left Fareeha holding the fuzzy pants. Wearing just her underwear and one of Fareeha’s Shield-Maiden shirts, Angela walked across her room.

“Oh là là,” Fareeha laughed, “I see London, I see France…”

“By the gods, how old are you?” Angela groaned.

“You should’ve known what you got into; you’re the one who robbed the cradle.”

“ _I_ robbed the cradle?” Angela sputtered. “ _You’re_ the one who seduced an old woman. _You_ should’ve known what you were getting yourself into.”

“But you like robbing this cradle, don’t you?” Fareeha grinned.

“Sometimes I’m not sure why I even bother,” Angela blushed. She walked to one of the dressers in her room and pulled open a drawer. She quickly put on a new pair of pajama pants, but ran back to the bed.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said, kissing Fareeha. “Keep the bed warm for me.”

She tried to walk away, but Fareeha had grabbed her wrist.

“Let’s keep it warm together,” she grinned. “I miss holding you.”

“Sweetheart, please, we’ve only been away for a minute…”

“Fine,” Fareeha groaned. She let Angela’s hand go, but traced a path along her hand as she did so.

“You know it’s only for a minute.”

“A minute too much.”

“ _You’re_ too damn much,” Angela blushed. “Just wait there.”

She walked across her room, towards the windows. Fareeha rolled over, looking at the ceiling of Angela’s bedroom. She thought her own room in the mansion was big, but Angela’s room was big enough to hold her entire old apartment.

The ceilings were truly vaulted, easily twelve feet tall. The double door to the room was fifteen feet from the massive, four-poster bed. It was larger than the king-sized bed that Fareeha splurged on back when she was in the Maidens. And it was magicked so it felt like she was sleeping in a cloud. Fareeha didn’t know what made her sleep better; the fabulous bed, or having Angela hold her in her arms.

The rest of the Witch’s room was equally grand. There were massive, mahogany bookshelves that lined the walls, with a few thick, heavy, leather reading chairs. Many of them sat by a fireplace that was as big as a dining room table. Now that it was the summer, an ornate wrought-iron screen covered it. Fareeha wasn’t one for the winter, but looking at it made her want to curl up with Angela in front of a roaring fire.

She looked over at Angela. She had gone over by the windows, which ran ceiling-to-floor along the length of the room. They looked out over the farm in the back of the mansion, and the enchanted woods out in the distance. Angela sat at a table which held a massive crystal ball. She closed her eyes, resting her hands resting on the table, and the ball glowed with a multitude of gentle colors. She was scrying the world, same as she did every day, looking for ley lines that had gone awry, or anything else that threatened the balance of the world.

Angela sat with perfect posture, her back held straight. She seemed poised and graceful, perfectly at ease with her magic. Fareeha rolled over to stare at the wonderful woman who captured her heart.

Bathed in the rising sun, Angela sat, and spun her magic about her with only a simple thought. Fareeha wished she could paint, so she could capture this moment.

Angela broke from her trance, snapping awake. The moment was gone.

“There,” Angela smiled, getting up from the table. “That didn’t take long, did it?”

“Fine, you were right,” Fareeha said, scooting over so Angela could jump back in bed.

“When am I wrong?”

“I can think of one moment.”

“You can never let me have a moment, can you?” Angela asked crossly. But she couldn’t be too mad; she still snuggled up next to Fareeha.

“You’ve had plenty of moments to yourself; I’m trying to give you moments with me.”

“And giving me a hard time is part of that?”

“You didn’t expect it to be easy, did you?” Fareeha smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fine, I’ll call you out on that,” Angela said. “Where was I wrong?”

“When you said we shouldn’t do this. When you said you should just shut me out.”

Angela went quiet at that.

“I’m so glad I was wrong,” she said.

“I’m glad you were wrong, too. I don’t think I could just let you go. I’d turn into one of those old, bitter barflies that sit around drinking the day away, telling everyone about the one that got away.”

“And I’d be a drunk old Witch alone in a mansion, living in a bottle wondering why I _let_ that one get away.”

“I’m so glad I was able to seduce you.”

“I’m so glad you did.”

Fareeha squeezed Angela, who returned the squeeze.

“We should just stay here,” Angela said, “in this bed, as long as we can both stand it.”

“Don’t tempt me, I can be pretty lazy if I put my mind to it.”

“I’m functionally immortal; I can stay in this bed as long as I want to,” Angela laughed. “A day is nothing to me.”

That got Fareeha to bolt upright.

“Gods, what are we doing? We can’t spend the day in bed!”

“What do you mean?”

“We were planning on a picnic today!”

“That’s today?” Angela said. “I thought we had a few days until then.”

“No, it’s a Tuesday,” Fareeha said. She had to crawl across the massive bed to the nightstand where she kept the Soldier’s watch. She grinned at the carving; _Illegitimi non carborundum._ ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’ If only the Soldier could see her now.

“See? Tuesday,” she said, showing Angela the watch, pointing to the day of the week the watch tracked.

“By the new gods, I thought it was Saturday.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, right?” Fareeha smiled.

“I guess we’d better get ready.”

“Now hold on; it’s barely eight,” Fareeha said. “We can be lazy for a few more hours.”

“Now that sounds like a lovely challenge.”

Fareeha set the Soldier’s watch down, and flopped back down. Angela snuggled up next to her, and she wrapped her arms around Angela. Fareeha couldn’t go back to sleep, she was too much of a morning person, but she could be with Angela. She could be with her for a long time.

“I miss this,” Angela said.

“Miss what? Having someone who loves you?”

Angela blushed heavily.

“You love me?”

“I’ve told you it before.”

“Yes, but…gods, it’ll take a long time to get used to hearing that.”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course!”

“Then never get used to hearing that,” Fareeha said. “I like making you blush.”

“You have a talent for it,” Angela laughed. “Yes, I miss having someone who loves me, and having someone to love. But I love being able to be quiet more.”

“’Being able to be quiet?’ Sorry, but I don’t follow.”

“Everyone wants to find someone they can talk to, someone they can be themselves with. But to find someone you can be quiet with, someone who you don’t have to always be making noise with, that’s what I prefer. You can be with each other, but you don’t have to say anything.”

“Have you felt that way before?”

Angela was quiet for a long time. Fareeha gave her all the time in the world.

“When did you know you loved me?” Angela asked.

“Where did that come from?”

“I…just curious, I guess,” she mumbled.

“You’ll just laugh at me.”

“No, I won’t!”

“You sure?”

“I swear upon the old gods and the new.”

Fareeha took a breath.

“It was your cursing.”

“My cursing?”

“No laughing!” She said. Angela brought her fingers to her lips, making a zipping motion. “Just hearing you curse was so graceful, but brutal. It was a lovely contradiction. I was waiting on the edge of my seat to hear the beautiful woman curse again. I can’t explain it.”

“I understand,” Angela said. She paused before continuing.  “After our picnic, I have to show you someone.”

“Someone? There’s someone else in this mansion?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Well, if you’re going to hold out on me, can we keep being quiet together?”

Angela didn’t say anything. But she held Fareeha tighter, like she would vanish in a heartbeat. Fareeha felt safe in Angela’s arms; she let her hold her for as long as she wanted.

 

* * *

 

Edward snorted and pranced in his stall when Fareeha and Angela entered the barn.

“Easy there, boy,” Fareeha said. “I know you missed me.”

“How are the horses?” Angela asked the Reaper.

“Fine,” the Reaper said, parsing out hay to the horses. “Getting anxious.”

“Well, it is that time of year,” Angela said. “We’ll have to let them out more.”

“Of course,” Reaper said.

Fareeha opened the door to Edward’s stall. The stallion nuzzled her as she fed him another apple.

“Red delicious, your favorite,” she said as the horse munched at the apple. “Come on, let’s get you ready.”

The Reaper walked over with her saddle. Fareeha helped him put it on Edward. With the saddle in place, she pulled herself up and onto the stallion. Angela was waiting for her, dressed in the summer dress that Fareeha always wanted to see her wear. Sabrina, her horse, was pawing at the ground, anxious to get moving. Floating next to her was the picnic box they put together.

“Ready?” Angela asked.

“As ever,” Fareeha said.

“Let’s get going!”

Angela spurred Sabrina on, and they shot out of the barn. Fareeha barely had to give Edward a nudge; he leapt after them, and they were quickly rocketing out of the barn, hot on the heels of Angela.

Laughing, Fareeha stood up in the saddle, leaning into the gallop. She had stolen a dress from Angela’s closet; it billowed out, catching the wind as Edward raced forward. She took a second to enjoy the warm summer air on her skin.

Angela led them into the forest, but Fareeha knew the path well. The woods were alive with the summer, with far more green leaves, grass, and moss than ever before.

The air was warm, neither too hot nor too humid. The sun shined through the forest canopy, and everything smelled fresh and pure. Fareeha took a deep breath of the wilds, savoring the purity of the wilds. Then it was back to catching up Angela.

The paths didn’t let her overtake Angela, but she kept hot on her heels. Through the twisting path, they broke through into the clearing with rolling hills.

The last time she was in this clearing, it was winter. Snow had covered the entire clearing, cresting on the hills and gathering at the low points. But now that it was the summer, the entire field was filled with wild flowers.

Fareeha gasped. Flowers of every color were strewn across the rolling hills. The grass was a deep emerald green, with purple flowers that covered most of the top of the hills, and orange flowers at the low points. But there were blue, green, yellow, and red flowers, too. Each seemed randomly thrown about, with only a few patches of green glass breaking through.

The wind blew across the hills, gentle and warm. It sent the grass and flowers waving in the sunlight. It was like she stepped from reality and into some painting.

“Allah, this is beautiful,” Fareeha gasped.

“I told you this was beautiful in the summer,” Angela smiled.

“You were so right.”

Angela dismounted.

“Come, let the horses run wild,” she said. “Let’s let them enjoy this, too.”

Fareeha jumped off, and gave Edward a playful slap to the hindquarters. He set off running across the hills, Sabrina following him.

“This so beautiful,” Fareeha said.

“Now do you know why I wanted to bring you here?”

“I was talking about you, but the scenery is quite nice.”

“Gods, can you stop?” She blushed.

“Make me,” Fareeha grinned.

“You’re lucky that I don’t want to.”

They walked to the top of a hill, and began setting up. From the picnic box, a massive blanket floated out. Angela waved at the blanket, and it spread itself out on the ground, ignoring the wind’s attempt to take it. Boxes and plates floated out, arraying themselves along the blanket, along with the plethora of food they had made.

“A spread, fit for a king,” she smiled.

“You’re too good to me,” Fareeha said, kissing her cheek.

The two sat down on top of the hill, leisurely eating. Fareeha reached into the box and pulled out a bottle of chilled champagne, offering a little to Angela.

They sat, looking out over the hills in bloom. Edward and Sabrina frolicked and trotted around, relishing their freedom. When Fareeha had ate her fill, she lay down with her head in Angela’s lap. Everything about this day was just so perfect, it made her want to cry.

The next thing Fareeha knew, Angela was gently shaking her.

“Hey,” she groaned.

“You fell asleep on me,” Angela smiled.

Fareeha groaned. She was still resting her head on Angela’s lap. She sat up, stretching.

“I didn’t sleep too long, did I?”

“Just a few hours.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, I wanted to spend more time with you.”

“But you did,” Angela said. “It was just us, on this hill, and that’s all that I wanted.” She smiled. “That, and it helps that you’re just so damn beautiful when you’re sleeping.”

“Then I’m glad you had a good picnic,” Fareeha smiled.

“Just the best.” The smile on Angela’s face faltered. “I would’ve let you sleep, but I still want to show you someone.”

“Guess we can’t keep them waiting.”

Angela looked like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. Fareeha wondered what she was thinking, but decided it was best not to rush her. She had already pushed her luck enough with her wild, swing-for-the-fences seduction on Angela’s birthday; best not get used to that too much.

 

* * *

 

Edward and Sabrina were all tuckered out when they got back to the mansion, but Fareeha’s nap kept her awake and alert. The sun was just starting to set, but she felt wide awake. The Reaper was in the barn, waiting for them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” Angela said.

Reaper grunted like it wasn’t a problem, and took the reins from her. Fareeha wanted to lead Edward into the barn herself, but Angela gently took her hand.

“Let him,” she said. “Please. He needs it.”

The Reaper did seem to be enjoying himself as he led the horses into the barn.

“Does he do everything you ask him to?”

“Magician-patient privilege,” she smiled gently. “I’m afraid I can’t tell.”

Angela led Fareeha behind the barn. Fareeha had been most everywhere on the mansion’s farm, but she hadn’t been too far behind the barn. There was a stone pathway leading into the enchanted forest. They followed it for about twenty meters, until they came upon a gate.

It was wrought iron, easily ten feet tall. The gate was massive, but also unlocked. Angela waved her hand, and it silently swung upon, almost like it had never rusted, or was exposed to the elements.

“A magic gate?” Fareeha chuckled.

Angela didn’t say anything. Looking beyond the gate, she could see why. They were in a graveyard. There were rows of headstones, stretching across the enclosed space. It almost seemed to go on forever.

“Are these…?”

“These are all the women who were the Witch of the Wilds,” Angela said. “And…and their families.”

“You said other Witches had families, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “One Witch, Effie, lived several generations, and had dozens of children before she relinquished her position of the Witch.”

“What happened to her family when she was no longer the Witch?”

“They had to move on. Only the Witch may live in the mansion; that’s part of the rules.”

They walked down the line of the headstones. Each of them was grand, a meter tall in the least and carved from thick slabs of marble. Many had statues perched on top of them; angels were common place. Many were chiseled with the honorific ‘Witch of the Wild,’ while others bore ‘beloved of the Witch,’ or ‘cherished child.’

Eventually, they came to a row, and Angela stopped. There was only one headstone on this row. An age-worn marble angel knelt atop a headstone, reaching down as if to offer a hand to the buried. Chiseled into the headstone was the name.

_Tess Blomqvist. Beloved by the Witch._

Angela knelt in front of the headstone.

“Hello, Tess.”

Fareeha could hear the emotion in her voice.

“I know it’s been a while,” she continued. “I wanted to visit you sooner, but…but I couldn’t bring myself to it. You know what you said, what you wanted for me: to find a way to move on, to love someone else the way I loved you.

“I told you that I’d never find someone like you. It was one of your good days; you were so lucid then. Gods, how you laughed. What was it you said? ‘Everything was eventual?’ You knew it would be a matter of time, but I never, ever wanted to move on after you.

“Well, I finally realized how wrong I was. I…I always told you that I lost myself in my magic, I always told that to myself, but to tell the truth, I knew exactly what I was doing. I was avoiding things. I was hiding from the pain of your passing by throwing myself into the position of the Witch. And you know how focused I get.”

Angela was crying. Fareeha gently put a hand on her shoulder; Angela took it and squeezed.

“And…and I guess there was still a part of me that never wanted to move on, because that would be admitting that you were gone. But I finally realized that you are gone, that I had to come up for air; I had to move on. I finally know what you mean, how I can’t let such a thing change me. It took me a very, very long time, but I’m finally living up to your last wish; I found someone new. Tess, this is Fareeha.”

 Angela looked up at Fareeha, as if she was introducing her to an actual, flesh-and-blood living person. Fareeha knelt down next to her.

“Tess, is it?” She said. “You have excellent taste in women.”

That got a peel of laughter from the crying Angela.

“I’m glad to meet you. And I’m glad that Angela brought me here,” she said. “I don’t want to seem jealous, but I want to know more about your beautiful woman. Watching her, seeing her move, hearing her talk, I know why you fell in love with her. And I don’t want to steal her from you, but if what you said is true, that you want her to move on and not be stuck on you, then I’d gladly take up what you’re offering.”

Fareeha stopped. Another one of her ideas flitted into her head.

“No, I’ve got a better idea,” she said. “We’ll share her. You’ve had your entire life to have her, so I’ll have her for the rest of my life. And when we cross over and meet properly, then we’ll share her between us. Does that sound like a plan?”

The grave was quiet, but Angela held her tighter.

“I think Angela likes it,” she smiled. “And I don’t want to assume anything, but I think this is a plan we’d both like.”

The marble was quiet.

“Then it’s a deal,” Fareeha smiled. “Now if you don’t mind me, I’d like to be selfish and start my time with your woman.”

“Until next time, Tess,” Angela said. She kissed the headstone before standing up.

Hand in hand, the two left the graveyard. Angela was quietly crying every step of the way; Fareeha gave her all the time she needed.

They got to the gate, and with a flick of her wrist, the massive iron gate closed soundlessly behind them.

“Thank you,” Angela said.

“You’re welcome. And thank you for introducing me to Tess.”

“You would’ve liked her. She was funny and witty like you. There was hardly a dull moment with her, even on her bad days.”

“It would be a while, but I look forward to seeing her. She sounds incredible to have your love.” That got Fareeha to laugh. “We’d be the oddest couple in the afterlife! Two ancient souls, you and Tess, with young me thrown into the mix!”

“Stop it,” Angela laughed.

“We’d be the most dysfunctional family,” Fareeha smiled. “Especially if you outlive me and find another cradle to rob!”

“Oh, you’re evil…” But Angela was laughing the whole time. “We wouldn’t be the worst. Remember, one Witch had a family that traced across generations. One of her newborn children would have a sibling who was over one hundred years old.”

“Wait, family? Oh gods! I haven’t seen my mother in months!”

“Months? You’re right, it’s been a while.”

“Oh, dammit all, I’ll need to take some time to visit her.”

“Such a dutiful daughter,” Angela gushed, holding her close. “Take it from me, you must visit your family every chance that you get.”

“But I…”

“Yes?”

“Part of me doesn’t want to leave,” she said. “These summer months have been like a dream come true.”

“All dreams must end some time,” Angela said. “It’s sad, but necessary. But that doesn’t mean it has to be all glitter and doom; please, take time off for your mother.”

“She might keep me for a week.”

“I’ve lasted centuries without you; a week is nothing to me,” Angela said.

“You’re supposed to say how you couldn’t bear to be without me for even a second.”

“I don’t have a mother anymore,” she said. “Think of me as living vicariously through you.”

“Then I’ll do enough living for both of us,” Fareeha said, kissing her deeply. “I’m just glad I have that vellum map of yours. It kept me on that damned cobblestone road more times than I’d like to admit.”

Angela blushed.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You’ve got that mischievous look in your eyes again…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stop it,” Fareeha laughed. “Did you do something to that map?”

“Of course. I put a blessing on it.”

“A blessing?”

“Yes. First, in order to properly navigate the enchanted woods, you need a piece of magic. The enchanted woods has a way of protecting the Witch; it the first line of my defense, so to speak. If you don’t have a magical item, the path will twist you around, send you back to where you began. So I put a simple spell on that map so you could find your way home.

“But the main reason I gave you the map was to help you with the cobblestone road. I told you that the creature that made the cobblestone road cheats, yes? It puts its thumb on the scale. So I put my thumb on the scale as well. The map is enchanted to make sure you don’t fall too far off the path, and catches your attention when you’re straying.”

“You cheated?”

“Of course. Turnabout is fair play, no?” Angela smiled.

“What made you want to cheat for me?”

“And let a beautiful young woman fall prey to the monster? I couldn’t let that happen.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile. She grabbed Angela and pulled her tight, mashing her lips against hers.

“What are you doing?” Angela sputtered, trying not to laugh.

“I’m thanking you.”

“You’ve got to get back home!” She playfully slapped Fareeha’s wandering hands.

“It’s too late in the evening, it can wait,” she said, renewing her caressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Towards the beginning, Fareeha makes a joke about seeing Angela's panties. The full chant is "I see London, I see France, I see [so and so's] underpants."


	16. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with Angela is like living in their own little world; it is a dream come true.  
> But every dream has to end, and Fareeha has to return to the real world, if only for a bit.

“Fareeha, what are you doing?”

“I’m still thanking you!”

“You’ve been ‘thanking’ me all night,” Angela laughed. “Get out of here, go to your mother.”

“But I’m not done yet.”

“You spoiled brat…”

Angela waved her hands and Fareeha felt herself be lifted off the bed. It felt strange to be flying through the air buck naked.

“Get washed up, and get out of here,” Angela said, covering herself with the sheets. “Remember, I’m living vicariously through you. Now visit your mother.”

“Like I have a choice,” she cried as Angela’s spell pulled her through the air, and into her attached bathroom. She was gently dumped into the shower, and the water turned on full blast. “Argh! Not cold water!”

“You need to cool down,” Angela yelled back.

Fareeha tried to turn the warm water on, but the knob refused to move, no doubt due to Angela’s magic. Chattering against the cold water, she washed as fast as she could. It felt like she was going into shock.

Fortunately, the cold water turned off when she was done. Chattering and shaking, she dried herself off, trying to rub the warmth back into her limbs.

“You’re cruel,” she shouted.

“I can’t hear you over the sound of the warm bed,” Angela yelled back.

“Now you’re even worse!”

Dressed, she left the bathroom. Her pack was floating in the air, waiting for her. Fareeha took it, and was whisked off her feet.

“Can’t I give you a kiss goodbye?” She cried, grabbing the door to hold herself in place.

From the bed, Angela blew her a kiss. Fareeha made a show of catching it before she was whisked from the room, down the stairs, and deposited on the front steps.

The Reaper was there, sweeping as the doors to the mansion closed.

“Good morning, Reaper.”

The Reaper grunted.

“Lovely day to be thrown out of a house, isn’t it?” She yelled at the mansion. She didn’t know if Angela could hear her, but she couldn’t pass up the chance to act mad at her.

That got the Reaper to chuckle.

“Well, might as well get a move on,” she sighed.

There was a rustling from her pack. The wind blew, and the vellum map pulled itself free, spinning gently in the air. Fareeha plucked it out of the air, looking it over. The directions were the same, the map just as detailed, but now there was a lipstick kiss on the upper corner.

It was the lipstick she bought from her makeover, but it was Angela’s lips that made the kiss.

Cradling the map in her hands, she made her way through the woods, over the bridge, and through the thicket. The cobblestone road was waiting for her.

“I’ve got the love of the Witch on my side,” she said to the road. “I’d like to see you try.”

Holding the map close to her, she made her way down the road. She kept the image of Angela in her mind. Her image, her smell, the feel of her gentle, dainty hands, the sound of her laughter, her soft hair, her cerulean eyes, Fareeha could practically see Angela in front of her.

The road whispered at her, but she distracted herself by thinking of Angela’s beautiful cursing. The road tugged at her, but she held tight to the map, which fluttered when she got too close to straying. The cobblestone tried to pull her off course by shifting the stones under her feet, but she leapt aside, aided by the map, the manifestation of Angela’s love.

At least, that’s what the map felt like.

Despite the whisperings on the wind, and the cobblestone road taking more twists and turns than normal, Fareeha made it to the glen. She bound through the glen, and took time to skip and frolic through the clearing that lead into town. Now that it was well into summer, the tallgrass had taken over it, coming up to her waist. Just thinking of Angela made her giddy.

Eventually, she made it to the outskirts of the town. The tallgrass gave way to a mowed wilderness buffers, which turned into lawns, and finally streets.

She walked down the streets until she came back to her mother’s house, where she knocked on the door. Minutes passed until the Soldier finally answered the door.

“Fareeha,” he gasped. “You…you came back.”

“Where you expecting something else?” She smiled.

The old man wrapped her in a tight hug.

“It’s been so long,” he said, tears in his eyes. “We were…we were staring to think…”

“Jack, I’m fine. Ang—” Fareeha stopped, nearly laughing. No one would know the Witch of the Wild’s name. She would have to keep it to herself, just so she wouldn’t have to explain just how she knew the Witch’s real name. “The Witch is actually very nice.”

“A nice jailer. That’s a first.” He finally let her go. “Your mother has been beside herself. She’s been thinking that the Witch finally locked you up, and you couldn’t break free.”

“Jack, I was taking regular trips back here.”

“And it’s been nearly half a year, Fareeha,” he said. “The last time we saw you, we were barely a month into the New Year. Now the summers almost done, and you just show up like nothing’s happened!”

“Ha, yes, maybe the time got away from me there,” she chuckled. “But I’m here now. You don’t need to worry that the Witch turned me into a newt.”

“Don’t you tempt fate like that,” he snapped.

“Please, the Witch would never do that to me,” she smiled.

The Soldier gave her a hard look, but couldn’t keep all of the emotion from his eyes.

“I’m just so damned glad you’re back, kid,” he said. “Your mother isn’t here, she’s having a meeting with the King. But she’ll be back by this evening; she’d love to see you.”

“And I’d like to see her, too. It has been a while. Oh, I should tell my friends I’m back.”

“They’d love to see you, too. Hana has taken to having weekly tea with your mother.”

“Hana? Really?”

“You know that girl thinks the world of you. She was overjoyed to be your apprentice; since the Witch took you, she’d been just as worn out as your mother.”

“I’ll have  pay her a visit soon. How has Hana been doing?”

“Still dating that Lúcio. They’ve become the realm’s sweethearts.”

“No!”

“A superstar DJ and a Shield-Maiden? It’s juicy tabloid bait.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a Lúcio fan now.”

“His stuff is everywhere; it’s hard to avoid it. He’s got skill, but it’s not my kind of music.”

“Ah, there’s the old man I’ve come to love,” Fareeha laughed, giving the man who should have been her father a tight hug.

“Get in here, you’ll let the bugs in,” Jack groaned. “I’ll get us some dandelion wine.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha spent the day reclaiming her room, unpacking the few pairs of clothes that she brought with her, until her mother came home. She walked down from the stairs, and saw the color drain from her mother’s face.

“Hi, mom,” she smiled.

Her mother was tiny, but nearly knocked her over with a fierce hug.

“Oh, my daughter, you’ve finally come back to me,” she cried.

“I’m sorry, mom, I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time? Did that damned Witch put some kind of spell on you?” She snapped.

_If only you knew,_ Fareeha thought.

“Nothing like that, mom.”

“That damned Witch. Next time I see her, I’ll kill her. I’ll keep a silver bullet in my pocket.”

“Mom, please, you don’t need to do that,” Fareeha said. “The Witch isn’t bad, really.”

Her mother gave a look over her shoulder. The Soldier had walked up behind them; she was trading a look with him.

“Mom, please.”

“I’m just so glad to have you back,” she said. “I’ll keep you here as long as I can.”

“Don’t worry, mom. I can spend a week here.”

“Just seven days?”

“Mom, it’s a full week.”

“I guess we should be thankful you could give the Witch the slip for seven days.”

“I didn’t give her the slip, she let me go.”

“Like we need to have this conversation again,” Jack said. “But any time you can spend with us is a blessing.”

“Amen,” her mother smiled.

“I heard that you’ve been getting close to Hana. Are you taking her in under your wing?”

“Hardly. She’s been tapped for something other than alchemical work.”

“I think I remember Zarya saying something about the Viking and Yeti were cooking something up with her. Is that making any headway?”

“You should ask her yourself,” her mother said. “But that’s for another time. I get you to myself all tonight. Pull up a chair, I need to see how my daughter has been.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha had lounged around until it was noon. As great as it felt to be lazy, she was already getting plenty lazy living with Angela; she had to get up and do something.

Dressed casually, she walked through the realm, her pack light as she only carried her workout clothes. She made her way through the streets, finally coming to the Shield-Maiden’s keep. Now that it was the summer, the initiates would have been chosen, and would be deep into basic training.

Sure enough, the fields in front of their little keep were filled with aspirants. They were squads that were running long laps around the field, others were practicing hand-to-hand drills, and others were running through a miles-long obstacle course.

Most of the Maidens despised the obstacle course, but Fareeha always found it fun. Maybe it was because her mother trained her by creating obstacle courses for her to run in their yard since she was a girl; maybe it was just her.

She walked through the keep, trying to keep a low profile. She saw Zarya walking down the halls, dressed to work out. She snuck up on her friend, falling in line next to her.

Next to the massive Zarya was the diminutive Hana. The two were talking.

“I’ve been out of the loop,” she said loudly. “What’ve I missed?”

“Fareeha?!”

Hana was the first to react, jumping on her.

“Oh by the gods, it is you!” Hana cried. “You’re back!”

“Oh no, Zarya, please,” Fareeha pleaded.

Zarya ignored her, scooping the both of them up.

“Ha ha, she’s come back to us!” Zarya roared. At least Fareeha wasn’t the only one being crushed by her.

“Zarya, please, I’m in here too,” Hana squealed.  

The big Russian relented, but still kept an arm wrapped around Fareeha.

“You’ve escaped the Witch’s clutches again!”

“Why does everyone think I broke out?” Fareeha asked. “It’s not like I’m a prisoner or anything.”

“Only the nicest jails make you feel that way,” Zarya said. “How long are you able to enjoy your freedom?”

“I’m back here for a week, so I’ll just be lounging around here for then.”

“It looks like you came to work out,” Zarya said, pointing to her pack. “Did you bring some workout clothes?”

“I did. I run and work out when I’m at the Witch’s, but she doesn’t have a weight room.”

“And you can’t be getting flabby in your cell, can you?” Zarya laughed, poking her bicep. “Come, work out with us. It will be like old times.”

“Better times,” Hana said. “Before you were taken from us.”

“By the gods, you make it sound like I died,” Fareeha groaned. “The Witch is actually really nice. Now give me a minute to change.”

Fareeha ran to the locker room to quickly change. When she came back, Hana and Zarya were quietly talking, but quickly stopped when she walked over.

“What did I miss?” She asked. They both had hard looks in their faces. “Something important?”

“Just possible deployment orders,” Zarya said. “It might be the summer now, but you know how the Maidens like to plan for the autumn.”

Zarya was right, the end of summer was the big crunch time for the Maidens, planning for All Hallows’ Eve. They were mostly used for defensive deployments, protecting the realm from the dangers of the Witch.

Still, it seemed like Hana and Zarya were talking about something important, like how long she had been ‘locked up’ with the Witch.

“Have you heard what the Witch is planning?” Zarya asked.

“Let’s just say the Witch has other things on her mind than attacking the realm,” Fareeha said. “Come on, let’s stop worrying about the future and enjoy the present.”

“You’re right,” Zarya smiled. “We have our friend back! We should celebrate after this.”

“I’m actually seeing Lúcio after this,” Hana said. “Want to come along? You really got along with him over Christmas.”

“Tell the truth, I don’t really remember much of our Christmas night out,” Fareeha said. She walked into the gym with her friends; Zarya quickly claimed two bench press benches for them. “I only really remember the dances, and bits of the bar hopping.”

“Ah, the good parts,” Zarya laughed.

Hana stripped the bar and did some warm-ups. Zarya let Fareeha go first, so she warmed up with the bar weight as well.

“It’s good to see you keeping up with your exercises,” Zarya said as Fareeha put weight on the bar.

“Once a Maiden, always a Maiden,” she smiled. “It’s mostly body weight stuff that I do, but I do miss the weights.”

“Says…you…” Hana groaned, pushing against her own barbell. Zarya gently stepped in, helping her rack the bar with a single hand.

“We all must start somewhere, sister,” she smiled. “Just go easy. I know you want to impress your former mentor, but you cannot hurt yourself.”

“She’s right,” Fareeha said. “No point in hurting yourself to show off.”

“Ooh, maybe we can show Fareeha my MEKA!” Hana said.

“Ah, that clunk of metal?” Zarya laughed.

“It’s cute,” Hana fumed.

“Your what?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Hana said. “Once we’re done, it’ll be great!”

 

* * *

 

Drenched in sweat, Fareeha finally called it quits. From the looks of it, Hana was about to fall over as well.

She ignored Zarya. Her massive, pink haired friend could work out all day and never look worse for the wear.

Taking a quick her shower, she met her friends outside the locker room.

“This way,” Hana said. Despite her exhaustion, she had a spring in her step as she led them towards the armory.

“You’ll like this,” Zarya said. “Our sister will be a front-line tank, along with me.”

“It’s really hard to see Hana doing that,” Fareeha said.

“Ah, you of little faith.”

“I have faith, but I don’t want to see our sister get hurt.”

“This will protect her, we’re sure of it.”

Walking into the armory, Fareeha took a deep breath. She missed the smell of gunmetal, oil, and powder. Once a Maiden, always a Maiden, and Maidens craved battle. Maybe she’d borrow a rocket launcher and blow up some dummies just for old time’s sake.

“Ta-da!” Hana said with a flourish.

“By the gods,” Fareeha gasped.

Standing in the armory was a massive metal beast. It was larger than one of the Omnics that attacked the realm decades ago, and seemed just as heavily armored. It was bipedal, with two legs and two arms, but the arms were massive guns. There was a massive, green-tinted bubble canopy that made up most of the front, with a large curved back that seemed to house a few rocket boosters.

“This is the MEKA,” Hana said proudly. “The ‘Mobile Exo-Force of the Kingdom’s Army!’”

“It’s…it’s really pink.”

Every piece of armor was painted bubblegum pink.

“The Viking let me paint it,” Hana smiled.

“Now I know what you mean about fighting alongside Zarya.”

“A massive machine like that is a good thing to have,” Zarya said. “My shields are strong, but with the armor that thing has, we’ll be a deadly team.”

“It looks like it has some serious firepower.”

“Fusion blasters and rockets,” Hana smiled. “I can boost around, and if things get too hairy, I can hit the self-detonation button to take everyone out!”

“You’ll blow yourself up?” Fareeha gasped.

“I’d blow the MEKA up; I get ejected.”

“Thank the gods.”

“Right? I’m fast, deadly, and cute!”

“A powerful combination,” Zarya laughed. “You should see her pilot it. She has a magic touch.”

“That’s incredible. I’d hate to be facing that thing in combat.”

“Lucky for you, you won’t have to. I’ll swoop in, and save everyone in the nick of time!”

Time? Fareeha pulled out the Soldier’s watch.

“Didn’t you say you were meeting Lúcio?”

“Aah! I forgot!” Hana cried. “I got so carried away by my precious MEKA! We have to run!”

Hana darted for the door, but only got a few steps before slowing to a crawl. At the urging of Zarya, they had gone heavy on leg workouts, and even Fareeha’s toned legs were cramping.

“Looks like you had a good work out,” Zarya laughed. “Come, we’ll call a ride, my treat.”

 

* * *

 

A short rideshare later, Fareeha found herself in the food district. There were a few grocery stores, but more restaurants and upscale coffee shops than anything else. It was a short trip from the maiden’s barracks, but after the workout that Zarya put them through, the ride was much appreciated.

“Next time we decide to have fun with you, warn me what you think ‘fun’ is,” Fareeha groaned.

“I second that,” Hana said. “Those squats, thrusters, and burpees nearly killed me.”

“’That which does not kill me wasn’t trying hard enough,’” Zarya laughed, “And now, you’ll be stronger and harder to kill! Everyone wins!”

“Everyone but my legs,” Hana said. “Oh gods, I am not looking forward to sitting down; I don’t think I could stand up.”

“Sounds like it’s working!”

Zarya’s pat on the back nearly sent them sprawling. But Fareeha was able to stay upright, as well as Hana; Zarya must really care for them, otherwise they _would_ have gone flying.

“Hana? What happened to you?”

Fareeha looked up. Sitting at a café’s outside table was a black-skinned man in a beanie hat and sunglasses. The beanie was fashionable, but did nothing to hide his dreadlocked hair.

“Zarya happened,” Hana groaned. “Save me from her.”

“Sorry girl, I don’t think I could do much against that,” Lúcio laughed.

“Some boyfriend you are.”

Hana collapsed next to Lúcio, who put a reassuring arm around her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek. Fareeha and Zarya grabbed chairs by the table.

“I’m sure she means the best for you,” he smiled.

“Da, but they have a hard time seeing it,” Zarya said, sitting next to Lúcio.

“Wait, that can’t be,” he gasped. “Is that Fareeha Amari?”

“I am,” she said. “Don’t go on and on about me ‘escaping the clutches of the cruel Witch of the Wilds,’ please. I’m not a prisoner there, I’m just back to visit my family and friends.”

“I’m sure that’s what every prison says to keep people in line,” Lúcio said.

Zarya nudged Lúcio. It was a light nudge, but it nearly sent him sprawling.

“Uh, I mean, that’s great,” he said. “And I’m glad that you’re back. Hana holds you in very high regard.”

“Please, I was just her mentor for a few months.”

“But you’re the daughter of the Alchemist, one of the Fabled Four.”

“By the gods, please, not that again,” Fareeha groaned. “I don’t want to be known as the ‘daughter of the Alchemist,’ I want to have my own legacy.”

“Well, you have it,” Lúcio said. “You’re the one the Witch of the Wilds took, and you know how to put the moves on her.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe to you, but when’s the last time you heard the Witch taking someone for herself? And when’s the last time you heard of that person breaking free to return home, if only for a bit?” Lúcio asked.

“I…I never thought about it that way,” she admitted.

“See? That’s why everyone makes a big deal out of it,” Lúcio smiled, wide and easy. “What’s easy for you is awe-inspiring for us.”

“Like how Zarya thinks that was an ‘easy’ workout,” Hana groaned.

“Zarya, are you trying to kill my girlfriend?” Lúcio asked, all in good humor.

“Da, and it makes her better,” Zarya laughed right back.

“Then thanks for keeping her in one piece!”

“Hey, you’re supposed to have _my_ side here,” Hana protested.

“And risk having my legs broken, slowly?”

“No no no, I said I’d break your legs if you break our sister’s heart,” Zarya said. “I wouldn’t break your legs for not taking my side.”

“Guess I better keep on dating you so I can keep my legs,” Lúcio laughed. “What do you ladies want to eat? My treat.”

“What’s this place known for?” Fareeha asked.

“They’ve got a killer Mediterranean chicken salad.”

“That does sound good.”

“And chicken salad is good for you,” Zarya said. “Full of lean protein and fiber. I can see our little sister drooling; better get enough for all of us!”

“Alright, alright, three Mediterranean chicken salads coming up,” Lúcio smiled, getting up to put the order in.

“Actually, can you get that to go?” Fareeha asked. “As much as I like spending time with you guys, my mother is going to want to see me even more.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lúcio said. “’Sides, Hana and I have to do a little shopping ourselves.”

Fareeha waited until Lúcio was inside the café before speaking.

“Damn, he’s nice.”

“You’ve met him before,” Hana said.

“Yea, but we were all shitfaced then.”

“Well, Lúcio has been nothing less than a perfect gentleman,” Hana said proudly.

“Glad we talked you into asking him to dance?” Zarya smiled.

“Fine, I’ll say it,” Hana said in a huff. “Yes, I am. But I’m happy that Fareeha was the one who was actually nice about it. Unlike a certain someone.”

“You can’t leave Lena out of it,” Zarya laughed. “She was worse than I.”

“She was,” Fareeha said. “I’m glad that I was able to be the voice of reason that guided you in the right direction.”

“See? That’s how you be a good mentor,” Hana said, pointing to Fareeha.

“But I’m not your mentor, I’m your friend,” Zarya said. “You should be giving this lesson to Lena.”

“Nice way to pass the buck.”

“Order is in,” Lúcio said, walking back to the table. He held a little plastic puck in his hand. “This thingy’ll buzz when it’s ready.”

“I hope you got me an extra-large,” Hana said. “After this workout, I think I could eat a horse.”

“I actually got extra-larges for all of you,” Lúcio said. “Zarya, I’m sorry, but they wouldn’t take a size larger than ‘extra-large.’”

“Ha ha, you know me, little brother!”

“Fareeha, you okay with an extra-large?”

“Plenty fine,” she said. “Thank you for picking this up.”

“Anything for the woman who escaped the Witch,” he winked.

“Ugh, I wish everyone would let that be.”

“But no one else has been taken by the Witch,” Lúcio said. “Remember, you’re a living legend to us.”

“What’s it like being captured by the Witch?” Hana asked.

Fareeha did her best to hide a grin. If only they’d knew that she’d taken the Witch knuckle deep.

“It’s…it’s like nothing you’d ever expected,” she said.

“Try us.”

Well, it wasn’t like she was giving away anything too risqué.

“She lives in a mansion,” Fareeha said. “In the middle of the enchanted woods. It’s a big, maid-cleaning mansion, but she’s the only one who lives there. And it’s a mess.”

“And it’s a mess?” Lúcio laughed. “The Witch of the Wilds is a slob?”

“More like a bachelorette living in her own space. No one else lives there, so she doesn’t have to be absolutely clean.”

“How can she live like that?” Hana said.

“Because she doesn’t have to clean herself up for anyone,” Zarya said. “You should have seen my apartment before I started dating Mei. Oof, the days I told myself ‘you’d better clean up after yourself.’”

“I know that too well,” Fareeha laughed.

“What? The two of you are slobs?” Hana gasped.

“Not slobs, but we’re the only ones seeing our place,” Zarya said. “No one is bothered by their own small messes.”

“Then how _many_ messes did you have?” Hana pressed.

“Little sister, you don’t want to know.”

“Then we should be glad that Mei found a way to tame the monster,” Hana laughed.

“She’s,” Zarya smiled, drifting off. “She’s wonderful. Just wonderful. I don’t think I could go back to being single. I really do.”

“That’s a change,” Fareeha said. “I remember you being the proud single one. ‘No one would tame me!’ you said.”

“That was before Mei,” Zarya said.

“It sounds like you found The One,” Hana laughed. “Almost makes me wish I found a girlfriend as wonderful as that.”

“You? A girlfriend?” Fareeha laughed. “Please, you’re the token straight girl of our group.”

“But you remember Zarya before she was dating Mei,” Hana said. “And look at her now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zarya demanded.

“I think she means that you found someone you could be comfortable around,” Lúcio said, stepping in to Hana’s proverbial rescue. “Someone who you don’t have to pretend around, someone you could be yourself around, even in your private moments.”

That made both Zarya and Fareeha pause. She couldn’t speak for Zarya, but Fareeha was instantly reminded of Angela. She didn’t have to be Fareeha the Good Daughter, Fareeha the Mentor, or Fareeha the Shield-Maiden, she was just Fareeha around her.

“Da, that’s right,” Zarya stammered. “She’s special to me.”

“See? That’s what I’m jealous of,” Hana said.

“Yea,” Lúcio laughed. “It’s a damn shame that you’ll never know what it’s like to have such a wonderful girlfriend like that.”

“Yes, a damn shame,” Hana laughed.

“But I do,” Lúcio smiled.

The plastic puck in Lúcio’s hand lit up and buzzed.

“Ooh, food’s up,” he said. “’Scuse me, gotta go grab this.”

He jogged away from the table. Fareeha couldn’t help but stare at him.

“God _damn,_ ” she said. “And I thought I was smooth with women!”

“I second that motion,” Zarya said. “I’ll have to find a way to use it on Mei.”

“He…he does that,” Hana said, blushing heavily. She watched Lúcio as he ran inside. “Like, all the time.”

“Please tell me you jumped on him,” Fareeha said.

“What?!”

“Did I stutter? Tell me you hit that!”

“We’re not having this conversation!”

“Are you kidding me? That was smooth as hell!”

“And he does that _all_ the time?” Zarya added.

“Well, uh, yea, a lot of the time.”

“Well then,” Zarya said, “guess I won’t be needing these.”

She pantomimed taking her panties off, and then ‘shot’ them across the street like a rubber band.

“Zarya!!” Hana was furiously blushing.

“Hana, I’m not straight, but if I was, I’d be all over that,” Fareeha said, jerking her thumb at where Lúcio walked off to. “First off, he’s gorgeous. Second, have you seen his ass?”

“You’re checking his ass out? I thought you said you weren’t straight.”

“I’m not, but I can appreciate a beautiful ass.”

“And it _is_ beautiful,” Zarya sighed. “He must do a squats and hip thrusters every single day. You could bounce a quarter off it…”

“Exactly! And third, if he does that all the damn time, and I was straight and dating him, you’d bet your ass I’d be riding that stud all over town.”

“You’re our little sister, and we want the best for you,” Zarya said. “And right now, the best thing for you is to strip that man down naked and ride him until one of you breaks.”

“I-I’m doing fine! I don’t need your help,” poor Hana sputtered. “We’re not having this conversation!”

“Yea,” Fareeha said, “she’s hitting that.”

“Hitting it like a ball bat,” Zarya agreed. “Be sure to stretch before engaging in rigorous sexual activity.”

“Stop!”

“Stop what?” Lúcio asked, walking back with an armful of big bowls.

“Stop bragging about you, that’s what,” Zarya said, easily changing the subject. “Oh, that looks heavenly.”

“Best salads in town,” Lúcio said, unaware of what they were riding Hana about. “Got it to go, just like you asked.”

“Thank you,” Fareeha said. “I’d really like to spend more time with you guys, but my mom is dying to see more of me.”

“No need to apologize, I get where she’s coming from,” Lúcio said. “Besides, we still have a few errands to run of our own. We’ll have to hang out before you head back.”

“I should also be getting back as well,” Zarya said, taking her packed salad. “Thank you, little brother.”

“Any time, big sis,” Lúcio smiled. “Come on, Hana, I’ll take your bags.”

“You don’t need to carry these for me, I got them.”

“If you were working out with Zarya, she probably did a number on you.”

“I always make sure to get the most out of a workout!” Zarya laughed. “The more you sweat in training, the less you’ll bleed in battle.”

“All the more reason to carry that for you.”

“At least let me take something,” Hana huffed. “I don’t like feeling like a burden.”

Lúcio shifted the bags around, putting everything on one arm or shoulder.

“Then you’ll be in charge of handing my hand,” he smiled, holding out his open hand.

As they walked away from the café, Fareeha made sure she was a few steps behind Lúcio when she tapped Hana on the shoulder. Hana looked over, just in time to see Fareeha pantomime riding a horse.

Hana hit Fareeha with as much force as she could muster. Fareeha danced away, grinning like a loon.

“Our little sister is doing well for herself,” Zarya said as the couple walked away.

“Yes, she is,” Fareeha said. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha thought the week would pass slowly, but was amazed that it had slid by like it was nothing. Then again, between visiting her friends and spending time with her mother and Jack, the days just didn’t seem to have enough hours.

For her last meal before going back to Angela’s, her mother pulled out all the stops. She, Ana, and Jack had spent the entire day in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. And now, with everything done, Fareeha was finally able to dig into their hard work.

“Gods, I’m so glad we can finally sit down,” Fareeha said, collapsing into her chair. “We must’ve spent the entire day in that kitchen.”

“I don’t know about you, but I think it was well worth it,” Jack said.

“It is a lot of food,” her mother said. “I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t think of just one meal I wanted to make.”

“It’s okay, I liked being able to go crazy in the kitchen,” Fareeha said. “It takes me back to when I was a girl, and you were teaching me to cook.”

“Ah, that _is_ going back,” Ana smiled. “Those were good days. Before the Witch stepped up her attacks.”

“You mean before everyone started signing pacts with her?” Fareeha asked, helping herself to a heaping bowl of rice.

“They’re one and the same.”

“She was part of the attacks, yes, but other people were responsible for it.”

“Why are you defending her?” Her mother asked, a hard edge creeping into her voice.

“I-I’m not, but we can’t just blame her for everything,” Fareeha said. “We can’t forget that the realm has other enemies other than the Witch.”

“I think this is a great conversation,” Jack said, “for another day. Let’s just sit back and enjoy a nice family meal.”

“You’re right,” Ana sighed.

Food was passed around, but Fareeha could feel tension in the air. What put her mother on edge?

“We’ll have to do this again,” her mother said. “I miss having you back, Fareeha.”

“I missed you too, mom. I’ll have to see what I can get away with.”

“Please don’t leave us for months again. I can’t stand you being taken from me like this.”

“I know, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“You should know better than to let your guard down around such a woman,” Jack said. “Please, just promise me you’ll keep your guard up and remember the engravings on that gold watch.”

“Thank you, but I know what I’m getting into.”

“No, you don’t,” her mother said, pounding the table. “Dammit, Fareeha, I’ve heard you talk and boast all week, and this is what we warned you of.”

“Mother, please, can’t we just eat in peace?”

“No, we can’t. I’m your mother, I love you, and I need to tell you that you’re getting too complacent.”

“Ana, please, we wanted to be gentle with this,” Jack said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You planned this?” Fareeha sputtered.

“Of course we have!” Her mother snapped. “The damn Witch takes you from us, first for a few weeks, but now for months. What will happen when you go missing for years? What happens when she stops giving you back? What happens when she keeps you forever?!”

Fareeha actually _wanted_ to stay with Angela forever, but she couldn’t tell her mother that.

“Mother, I’ll be fine. Same as I always have.”

“You used to curse the Witch just as much as any of us,” Ana continued. “Now you can barely say anything bad about her. Dammit all, can’t you see that the Witch is turning you against us?”

“She’s doing no such thing!”

“There it is,” the Alchemist spat, pointing at Fareeha. “There it is! My Fareeha would _never_ defend such a creature, so why are you?”

“Mom, I’m still me.”

“Ana, please, this isn’t how we wanted things to go,” Jack said.

“That bitch is stealing our daughter from us, how can you be so gentle about it?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Fareeha said. “I know what I’m doing, I know that I’ll be safe, and if I’m not, I know how to defend myself. I’m still a Shield-Maiden.”

“What’s the first lesson they teach you upon graduating to a full, battle-ready Maiden?” Her mother pressed. “’Never rest on our laurels. Never assume things are owed to you because of your strength. Never overestimate your power and abilities!’”

“I know what the Maidens taught me, you taught me those lessons when I was a girl.”

“Then how can you not see that your every breath in that damned place is a danger to you?” Ana cried. “It’s turning you against your vows.”

“My vows?” Fareeha laughed. “I swore a vow to the King, that I would obey his orders. And what did that King do?”

“Don’t you dare take Reinhardt’s name in vain! Not in this house!”

“He gave me away, like a cattle, or a bitch to be bred.”

Ana threw her glass at the ground. It shattered as she got to her feet.

“We are Amaris,” she yelled. “For generations, we have served with pride and honor! Don’t you dare spit on your liege’s name, he gave us everything.”

Fareeha was quick to get on her feet, fire in her blood.

“And he gave me away like it was nothing!”

“Stop!” Jack yelled. “Both of you, stop!”

Fareeha was glaring at her mother. Her one-eyed glare used to give her pause, but now was not the time for her to back down.

“Ana, this isn’t how we wanted this talk to go,” he said. “Fareeha, you have to know that we love you so much, and seeing you taken from us hurts. It hurts more than you know. Please, try to see where your mother is coming from.”

“She thinks I’m getting brainwashed.”

“You _are_ brainwashed,” her mother said.

“You—!”

“Dammit, will the both of you shut up?!”

Now Jack was standing between them.

“Ana, you asked me to stop you if things got heated, if you overstepped yourself. Guess what? You crossed that line a while back. Let me handle this.”

“Try to talk sense into her.”

“I said, let me handle this,” he snarled. “Fareeha, try to look at this from our point of view. You’re gone for months. Months! And when you come back, you’re practically singing the praises of your captor. How do you think that looks?”

“What’s your point?” She demanded.

“You’re upset. We didn’t want to gang up or bully you, but you have to know that your mother and I love you, and we want the best for you. So when you come back, saying how the Witch of the gods damned Wilds ‘isn’t that bad,’ it got us worried. It got us more than worried, it scared us. It shook us to our bones.

“You know the stories, I’m sure you heard them growing up. The bad stories, like how the Witch would lure children to her mansion, how she put a spell on them to make them think she was a friend. How she would turn her house into gingerbread, or how she would leave fresh-baked pies on a window ledge to lure them to her.

“Those are probably just stories, but they all have one thing in common: the Witch makes them think she’s not their enemy. And you sound just like that! ‘Don’t worry about the Witch,’ ‘I’ll be fine,’ ‘the Witch isn’t bad,’ fuck’s sake Fareeha, you’re in a den of snakes over there! How can you expect us to not worry about you? Remember the watch I gave you; 'never let the bastards grind you down.’”

Fareeha bit her tongue. She knew Angela would never hurt her. She’d seen a side of Angela that no one had ever seen. She had seen Angela smile! She _made_ Angela smile! Angela gave her true name to her.

“Please, we only want you to come back to us, permanently,” Jack said. “Can you understand that? Please say something, I don’t want to be talking rhetorically here.”

“I can.” Fareeha said tightly.

“Then you’d know we’re doing everything we can to find a way to get you back. Us, the king, and the entire realm is helping.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re trying to find the Witch’s mansion,” her mother said. “So we can get you back. But the damned enchanted woods, it finds ways to twist us about, turn us away. Lena tried following you when you last left several times, but she found herself walking in circles. It’s like there’s a veil that blocks us from getting to you.”

Fareeha remembered what Angela said about the woods; without a magical item, traveling through the woods would only get one turned around. Lena didn’t have the magical map, she must’ve gotten lost without it.

“But we won’t stop,” Jack said. “Just know who you’re with, what she does. Please, just stay strong for us, and we’ll find you.”

“And I’ll kill the damned Witch if it’s the last thing I do,” her mother said. “I’m keeping a silver bullet on me at all times. I’ll put it through her damned heart in the blink of an eye.”

That made Fareeha’s blood burn. The image, the prediction, from the Ocular leapt to her mind. Angela, her beautiful golden hair cut short by a sword, bleeding from cuts and bruises and gunshots, kneeling before King Reinhardt, a stake ready for her to be tied to and burned.

It made her angry, angrier than she’d ever felt in her life.

“Just like you to put killing over your own daughter,” she spat. “Just like you always do.”

“You don’t—!”

“Hate you for spending more time with the Maidens than with me? You know what it was like coming home to an empty house, knowing you were out there instead of with me? Sometimes I do!”

“That’s not the way you talk to your mother—”

“That’s rich, coming from the man who’s not my father.”

She brushed passed the Soldier and the Alchemist as she left for her room. She used to be hungry, but her appetite was long gone.


	17. End of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha wishes she could take back what was said, but knows she can't. Fortunately, the Soldier catches her before she returns to her dream with Angela.

Fareeha was sorely tempted to leave in the middle of the night, but the fight took a lot out of her, especially with her empty stomach. But it also left her with a strange, anxious energy; she ended up tossing and turning for most of the night until she got fed up enough to give up and leave extra early.

She stealthily packed her bag, and quietly walked down the stairs. Her mother’s room was closed; she had heard her arguing with Jack long into the evening, but had gone to bed near midnight.

And Angela had wanted to live vicariously through her.

_Hope she likes disappointment,_ Fareeha thought.

Creeping down the stairs, she made her way to the front door when a light clicked on.

“You kept me waiting, kid,” the Soldier said. He was sitting in a chair by the door.

“Don’t tell me you wanted to talk again.”

“Sorry, but I’m a clichéd old man,” he said, getting up.

“And you just sat there the entire night, trying to catch me?

“I did. Nodded off a few times, thought I missed you.”

“What, want to tell me not to get brainwashed by the Witch one last time?”

“You’re angry, I get that. I don’t know why you’re angry, but I get it.” The Soldier paused. “No, I _do_ know why you’re angry. No one likes being told they’re brainwashed, least of all by their mother, and certainly not anyone who’s as bullheaded and prideful as an Amari.”

“’Bullheaded? Prideful?’ What gives you the right to call us that?”

“Considering I’ve been with you and your mother for over ten years, I’d say I’ve got a pretty good right to call it like I’ve seen it,” the Soldier chuckled. “There’s been plenty of nights where your mother and I had a fight and I went to bed both mad and scratching my head, wondering what happened or what I did to upset her. But your mother is quick to action, doesn’t like admitting there was a misstep, or even admitting that she isn’t as infallible as she thought she was.”

“So that’s what last night was? A ‘misstep?’”

“Your mother wants the best for you; you _have_ to know that. And yes, we wanted things to go differently. But it didn’t go like how we wanted; shit went sideways real quick. Your mother got riled up, and lashed out like she always did: knowing that she was right, someone else was wrong, and they needed to be taught a lesson. Bullheaded and prideful. And you reacted the way I always knew you’d react: that you were under attack, and that was something that couldn’t stand, so you stuck to your guns. Bullheaded and prideful. It cuts both ways.”

Fareeha bit her tongue. Of course it did. She had ended her fair share of relationships because she rushed to a conclusion, or couldn’t take back a word that was spoken. She didn’t want to think about last night, she tried to force it from her mind, but her brain had other ideas. It made her dwell on the words she said.

_That’s rich, coming from the man who’s not my father._

“Looks like I hit a nerve,” the Soldier said. “That’s why I wanted to catch you before you left. What I said last night was wrong, too. Trying to get you to see something from a different point of view? That’s not something to tell anyone, let alone an Amari. I was wrong to do that, and I apologize for it; it drove you away, the last thing I wanted to do.

“I know you can’t say that you forgive your mother, and you sure as hell know that your mother isn’t ready to let it go just yet. But I want you to know that I’m sorry that things went sideways.

“What you said hurt me; it cut me real deep. I’ve tried being the best—“

The Soldier stopped.

“No, now I’m trying to justify my anger. Forget I said that.

“Fareeha, it makes me angry that you think of me that way, and it hurts worse than any wound I’ve ever taken. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you, or your mother. You’re both special to me, and I love both of you, your mother as my wife and you as the daughter I never had. What happened last night doesn’t change that. But I want you to know that we only want the best for you, and we hope to see you again. We both want you to sneak away from the Witch to visit again.”

“Does my mother feel the same way?” Fareeha snorted.

“There’s that bullheadedness again,” the Soldier smiled. It made Fareeha clam up, both as a shot across her bow, and a painful reminder of what she had said. “She’ll never admit it, not now, but she does. That’s what I wanted to tell you before you left.”

Fareeha stood in front of the door, doing her best not to look at Jack. She knew he was right, but with things still sore, it was hard to admit that.

“Thanks,” she finally said. “Tell my mother I mean it back to her.”

“In your own special way,” Jack smiled. “Can I give you a hug before you leave?”

Fareeha didn’t want to say anything, so she just took a step forward. Jack wrapped her up in a gentle hug before letting her go.

“Don’t get lost out there.”

That made Fareeha laugh.

“I’ve got a _very_ good map,” she smiled.

“That makes me feel a little better. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been sitting up all night. I need to crash.”

He opened the door for her, and Fareeha walked out into the early morning dawn. The air was cool, creating a thick mist that hung in the air. She breathed it in deeply as she walked down the streets.

She wished they never had that dinner. She didn’t wish to curse at her mom. But just thinking of losing Angela, of having her mom kill her, it pushed her over the edge. Even just thinking about it made her blood begin to boil again.

Walking through the foggy dew helped her calm down, but she couldn’t get her mind to stop replaying the train wreck of the evening.

The tall-grass of the clearing was wet with the dew. She was practically soaked to the bones when she got to the glen. Then she was at the cobblestone road.

Something told her to turn around. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This place was wrong. But the creature that made the road hadn’t tempted her much the past few times. Fareeha pulled out Angela’s vellum map and held it close.

She put one foot on the cobblestone road, then the next. And the next, and the next.

So far, so good.

But the fog seemed to thicken as she walked down the road. Her stomach dropped out from under her. Suddenly she was glad she skipped breakfast, as well as dinner.

Fareeha shook her head, trying to clear it. She had a Witch to get back to.

“You fell in love with the Witch of the Wilds?” Her mother demanded.

Ah, there was the cobblestone road. She was wondering when it would try to tempt her.

“You might as well run off the road,” her mother huffed. Fareeha always wondered where the voices came from. “You’re no daughter of mine. How could I raise such a weak woman?”

The words cut deep, but Fareeha knew that the words were never her mother’s. She knew that her mother loved her, and loved her so much she would even try to kill Angela. She could remember the last time the cobblestone road tried to trick her before.

Back then, the cobblestone road imitated Angela, telling her that her mother shouldn’t have wasted her love on such a weak woman. She had even asked her mother if she truly loved her.

_What?_ Her mother had said. _Such a stupid question, I love you with every shred of my being. I love you more than my life itself._

Fareeha chuckled. That is what made their fight last night so bitter; her mother was hell-bent on protecting her. She was so fixated on ‘saving’ her, she never realized that Fareeha had found a woman to love. It just so happened that that woman was the Witch of the Wilds.

Yes, that’s what made her mother’s words hurt her so. Fareeha knew that her mother would never accept Angela, as much as she wanted her to. Was that what made her so sad, so angry? Knowing that she’d have to choose between her mother, or Angela?

The cobblestone road chattered away, but Fareeha was too lost in her own thoughts to hear the words of her phantom mother.

Is that what she would have to do? Choose between her life as a Shield-Maiden, or to live with Angela? Angela was so sure that she would die as the Witch of the Wilds, it seemed that they were on a collision course. Would there be a way to have it both ways? To remain a Shield-Maiden, with Angela? Now that seemed like a pipe dream.

“Of course it’s a pipe dream, you stupid girl,” Angela said. That got Fareeha to snap out of her haze. She had to be halfway through the cobblestone road.

“You think I truly love you?” Angela laughed. Walking through the fog, hearing the cruel laughter, it made the hair stand up on Fareeha’s neck. “No, you dumb girl, your mother was right. I _am_ brainwashing you, bending you to my will. Imagine what I could do with a Shield-Maiden sworn to me. A Shield-Maiden who is lauded as a hero. Can’t you see that I’ve been using you since the beginning? Why do you think I asked for you?”

Fareeha chuckled. The cobblestone road was trying too hard. She knew Angela loved her. Angela showed her Tess’ resting place, the first woman she loved. She let herself be vulnerable around her. Would Angela do that for anyone she met?

Besides, she was holding the vellum map, physical proof that Angela loved her.

“Just give up,” phantom Angela spat. “If you’re so dedicated to the realm, just walk off the road; otherwise, you’ll be mine forever.”

Being hers forever? Now that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

Fareeha finally came upon the thicket that marked the end of the cobblestone road. Fareeha looked back on the fog-filled road; it wasn’t so bad. Maybe she was getting too used to walking up and down the road.

Maybe she was too numb from the fight.

As she pushed her way through the thicket, she could hear something growling in anger. It was a deep, resonate, wet growl that seemed to shake her bones even though she couldn’t hear anything. It gave her the shakes, encouraging her to move faster.

She followed the road, crossed the bridge, trotted along the brook, and soon found herself at Angela’s mansion. By then, the sun was rising, and the fog was vanishing. It looked like a wonderful day. Fareeha walked by the giant Omnics frozen in place, and pushed at the massive doors. Her palm glowed from Angela’s spell, and the doors swung open with no fuss.

“Angela? I’m back,” she called.

Angela’s head popped up from one of the many sofas that filled the ballroom.

“Miss me?” Fareeha asked, putting on a brave smile.

Angela ran at her, nearly tackling her as she wrapped Fareeha in a tight hug.

“Oof! You did, didn’t you?”

“I love you,” she said.

“J-just like that? Maybe I should take more vacations.”

“Don’t do that,” Angela laughed. “I want to be with you forever, but I can’t stop saying it.”

“What did I do to deserve this?”

Angela broke her hug and held up a new trashy romance novel.

“I decided to get a bottle of wine the day you left, and look what was on it,” Angela smiled. “You left this for me, didn’t you?”

“Gods, I almost forgot about those.”

“’Those?’” Angela said,  her eyebrows raising. “There are more?”

“Maybe there are, maybe there aren’t,” Fareeha laughed. “I kind of forgot.”

“Oooh, now I love you even more,” Angela smiled, wrapping her in another hug. “Don’t tell me where you hid more of these awful things, I want to be surprised.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course! It’s so terrible, I spent most of the week reading it! I don’t think I moved from the ballroom in the last two days.”

“I’m glad you like it so much,” Fareeha said, wrapping her arms around Angela.

“How was your trip?”

Fareeha couldn’t think of anything to say. Angela broke the hug, but held her hands. She knew something happened.

“What happened?”

“I…I had a fight with my mother,” Fareeha sighed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She really didn’t, but Fareeha doubted that she could hide anything from Angela.

“She thinks you’re brainwashing me.”

“Because I’m the Witch of the Wilds?”

“That, but also because I’m not cursing you every chance I get.”

“Did you use to?”

“E-everyone did,” Fareeha blushed. She couldn’t bring herself to look into Angela’s eyes. “Especially in the Shield-Maidens.”

“You saw me as your enemy, I don’t blame you for demonizing me. I would, too,” Angela said. “Now because you know me, because you love me, you can’t curse me, yes?”

“And that’s why she thinks you’re putting a spell on me.”

“That just means your mother loves you.”

“She loves me so much, sometimes it hurts,” Fareeha laughed. “I…I don’t want to ask, but she—”

“You want to know if I actually am brainwashing you?” Angela said.

“I know you’re not! But my mother is so adamant, it…”

Fareeha couldn’t finish the thought.

“It makes you wonder if she’s right?”

She nodded, shame faced.

“I’d never do that,” Angela said, “neither to you, nor anyone else. With my magic, I’m more than capable of change your way of thinking, but I would never, ever even think about using it on someone. Going into a person’s head, changing the way they think, how they feel, how they even perceive the world, that’s a line I’d never cross. To me, brainwashing is tantamount to rape.”

“Rape? Are you being a little over dramatic?”

“Not in the least. Granted, the primary definition of rape is ‘unlawful sexual activity,’ but the secondary meaning is ‘an outrageous violation.’ Forcibly changing a person’s mind, breaking their way of thinking and supplementing it with my own way of thinking, that’s a violation of the mind, a violation of the most sacred part of a person. I’d never dream of using it, even if it was on the Devil themselves.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“What did _I_ do to have you?”

“You asked for me, that’s what,” Fareeha laughed.

“By the Gods, I never would have guessed I’d come to relish that off-the-cuff demand,” Angela laughed, blushing heavily.

Fareeha pulled her tighter. Angela truly loved her. She knew it was true, but hearing it repeated, it just made her feel so warm inside. She had her love, her trust.

“I…I have to tell you something,” she mumbled.

“Something else?”

“Yes.” Fareeha took a deep breath. “The King ordered me to spy on you.”

Angela pulled away. Fareeha didn’t know if it was because of her revelation, but she gave her an even look.

“Was this when you went back home just now?” She asked.

“N-no, it was…it was during Thanksgiving,” Fareeha mumbled. “He wanted to use me to try and figure out when your next attack was.”

“Always with the attacks,” Angela sighed.

“You must be so angry with me,” Fareeha said. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you sooner—“

“I’m not mad. I expected something like that to happen.”

“What? You did?”

“You’re a Shield-Maiden, sworn to protect the realm from its enemies, foreign and domestic,” Angela said. “What made you think I _wouldn’t_ suspect you of trying something funny?”

“But how did you know?”

“I didn’t. But I suspected.”

“Gods, I fucked up,” she mumbled. “I should’ve come clean so long ago, it’s just…this was like a dream…”

“Hey,” Angela said, taking her hands. “It’s okay. I knew you’d never spy.”

“How?”

“Well, for starters, if our game nights are any indication, you’re a lousy liar,” she smiled. Fareeha blushed. She knew that was the truth. She was better at dodging questions than lying. “Also, if there’s one non-magic talent I’ve picked up from my long years of being the Witch of the Wilds, it’s knowing when someone is lying.”

“I thought you’d have a spell to see if someone is lying.”

“I know several cantrips. But reading a person has become a talent. When someone comes to make a pact, I have to know if they intend to pay it in full, or if they want to duck out of the payment. If they’re trustworthy, I like to give them a better deal. If not, well, a little extra charge might incentivize them to not pull a fast one, a little leaning on them to tell them they’d better play fair.”

“Now you sound like a mob boss. Then when did you read me?”

“When I asked if you were spying on me. Remember then? Before I showed you the mansion?”

“Allah, I almost forgot about that.”

“Sometimes the best way to gauge if someone is lying is to ask them directly. You’ll be surprised what people might accidentally give up when confronted,” she smiled. “I was reading you then, trying to see what you’d give up. And you gave nothing up; in my experience, that means you’re telling the truth. You weren’t spying on me. Or at least, you knew better than to try.”

“I really am a bad liar, aren’t I?”

“That’s one of the things I love about you,” Angela said. “I don’t like the fact that the King ordered you to spy on me, but I do appreciate you telling me. That, and I especially like you not _actually_ spying on me.”

“I didn’t train to be a spy. I tried telling the King that, but he had it in his head that I’d be the perfect agent.”

“His paranoia must be growing.”

“It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.”

“I’m not out to get him,” Angela pouted.

“But every year, without fail, you’ve attacked the kingdom.”

Angela looked away in shame.

“Every fucking year,” she mumbled. “Every fucking year, I’m drawn into it. Why can’t I be left alone?”

“Maybe because you’re the Witch of the Wilds.”

“That must be it,” she chuckled.

“You’re…you’re not mad at me?” Fareeha asked. “Not for trying and failing to spy on you?”

“I’m more upset that it took you this long to come clean,” Angela said. “But I still love you regardless.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’ve asked that already,” Angela laughed.

“It bears repeating.”

Angela pulled her close. Fareeha let her.

“About your mother,” Angela said, “I know you’re upset about your fight, but I hope you can find it in you to talk to her again.”

“Now you’re trying to get me to feel better?”

“That’s part of it. But remember: I’m also living vicariously through you,” she smiled. “You can’t something let this fester. Trust me, it’s better to face it head on.”

Fareeha wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but she didn’t want to push it. She just felt like avoiding even _thinking_ of the fight. She should forget about everything.

“Actually, I have a question.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“My mother said my friend, Lena, tried following me into the enchanted woods, to find a way to get to your mansion,” she said. “Why haven’t they found your mansion yet?”

“You can only travel the woods with a magic item. The enchanted woods are based on permissions,” Angela said. “If you have the right permissions, you can go anywhere. To get to my mansion, you have to have a piece of magic. More specifically, my magic, the magic of the Witch.”

“And if they don’t have that magic?”

“You’ll get turned around,” Angela said. “That map I gave you? That has my magic. Because of that, you have a means to pierce the haze of the enchanted woods. Junkenstein’s Creation was brought back to life because of my magic; with that, the good doctor is able to make his way through the forest, back to my mansion. If you don’t have my magic, the only other way to make it through the woods is to be led by fate.”

“Damn, you must really love me.”

“I do,” Angela smiled. “Oh, I think I know what would make you feel better.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“We’re almost done cleaning the mansion: we just have the two things you were looking forward to.”

“Ah, we finally get to tame that damn kitchen,” Fareeha laughed. “How could you let it get so dirty?”

“Remember, I suffer from a severe case of melancholy. That makes it easy to let things accumulate.”

“And how’s your melancholy now?”

Angela kissed her. It was just what Fareeha needed.

“Much, much better.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, wake up sleepy-head.”

Fareeha groaned, rolling over to try and get more sleep.

“Come on, you’ve slept in enough,” Angela said.

“Just a bit more.”

“You’ve had enough.”

Suddenly, the sheets were pulled back. No doubt Angela was using her magic.

“You’re cruel,” Fareeha cried.

“I’m trying to help,” she said, pulling at her arm.

“By dragging me out of bed?”

“Exactly. That fight with your mother put you in a mood,” Angela said. “As the foremost expert on melancholy, the best thing for you is to do something. And the kitchen _does_ need to be cleaned.”

“You’re a cruel doctor.”

“But I’m good at what I do,” Angela smiled. “I’ve had a lot of time to learn medicine.”

“I’m not going to win this, am I?”

“Of course not.”

“You must really love me.”

“Of course. I only want the best for you.”

Angela was right about one thing: she was down in the dumps. So much so that even last night’s kissing, heavy petting, and cuddling couldn’t fully cure it. She just couldn’t stop thinking about what she said, both to her mother and to Jack.

But then again, she did have a good talk with Jack in the morning. Maybe that would be enough.

“Fine,” she groaned, getting out of bed. “You say that doing something is good for you? Then let’s get to cleaning.”

“There’s the spirit,” Angela smiled.

Fareeha pulled off her pajamas and grabbed some jeans and a t-shirt, things that could get dirty. Angela was similarly dressed. Together, they walked to the kitchen, where the Reaper stood at the stove, cooking.

“Thank you for making oatmeal, Reaper,” Angela said.

Reaper grunted.

“If you’re done, you can wait for us to start.”

The Reaper poured the oatmeal into two bowls, and walked off to the side of the kitchen.

“I still don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Fareeha said, eating her simple breakfast.

“It is pretty funny, you have to admit,” Angela said.

“Seeing the Reaper cooking? Of course.”

“No, that he likes it,” Angela smiled. “Reaper, do you like cooking?”

“Yes, I do,” he said.

“Why’s that?” Fareeha asked.

“It reminds me when I was human,” he said. “When I was caring for my brothers and sisters.”

“Are they doing okay without you?”

“I don’t know,” the Reaper said. “But being related to me…it probably made their lives more difficult.”

“Then why did you take this curse?”

Angela put a gentle hand on hers.

“Reaper, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Fareeha stammered.

“I’d like not to,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Well, enough depressing thoughts,” Angela said, standing up. “We have serious cleaning to do. Come on!”

Angela pulled at Fareeha’s arm, dragging her over to the massive double sink. The sink  was filled with dishes, but that didn’t stop her. With a wave of her hand, the faucets turned on, and warm water began filling the sinks. Soon they were full of hot, soapy water.

“Let’s get to work.”

Fareeha always liked cleaning. It was hard work, yes, but she loved the end result. Armed with a massive sponge, she and Angela went to work.

First were the dishes. Plates and bowls of every size were scrubbed clean, and handed to the Reaper, who dried and stacked them up. Next came the dozens and dozens of pieces of silverware, spoons to forks to butter knives to steak knives to butcher knives, followed by pots and pans. As they finished, they passed them over to Reaper, who dried and stacked everything.

Slowly but surely, the massive pile of dishes began shrinking, replaced with rows and rows of neatly stacked clean dishes. Fareeha couldn’t think of anything to talk about, but Angela seemed just as content to remain quiet as she was.

“Are you reading my mind?” Fareeha asked.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“It’s like you know exactly what I need; quiet company.”

“Well, I am the foremost expert in melancholy,” Angela smiled. “This is what I needed for the longest time, so I’m giving it to you.”

Fareeha leaned over to kiss her.

“You’re too good to me.”

“And you’re too good to my mansion,” Angela laughed. “We’re almost all done, and it’s just past noon.”

“Time flies when you’re getting clean,” Fareeha laughed, splashing Angela with some of the soapy water.

Angela yelped, and splashed her back.

“Stop that!” She laughed.

It felt good to smile. It felt even better to have Angela with her. Soon, all of the dishes were done. They quickly went over the countertops, islands, and tables, finishing the kitchen.

“Damn, this looks so much better,” Fareeha said, mopping her brow.

“It does,” Angela said, taking her arm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we still have that ballroom to get clean.”

“And where would we start with that?”

“I’ve actually got an idea. Reaper, would you like to help out?”

Reaper grunted ‘yes.’ He was drying the dishes, and set down the last plate in the stack of clean plates.

They walked to the ballroom. Fareeha was always amazed of the number of sofas Angela had.

“You have a lot of books,” she said, pointing to the half-filled shelves that lined the sides of the room. “So we fill up the bookshelves, and we make nooks with the sofas, little circles three or four sofas wide. That way, we have the main ballroom open, but with plenty of seats off to the side, so if you ever decide to have company, they can break into little groups or sit back and watch the dance.”

“Have you ever thought about being an interior decorator?”

“Please, I’m a Shield-Maiden,” Fareeha laughed. “Born into battle!”

“You’ll still have a war to fight. It’ll be a war against dust and bad Feng Shui.”

Fareeha gave Angela a push for that. It only made her laugh.

“Can we do this the hard way?” Fareeha asked. “I could really use the chance to move and break a sweat.”

“Anything for you.”

That gave Fareeha a beautiful, warm, fuzzy feeling.

“Let’s get started with the books.”

They all went from chair, sofa, and table to chair, sofa, and table, grabbing books to be placed back on the shelves. When that was done, Angela and Fareeha lifted sofas, moving them to the side into little circles. The Reaper was able to easily lift one sofa by himself; he followed their lead.

The sun started dipping into the horizon when they were finished. With the sofas and chairs off to the side, the ballroom seemed even bigger.

“Now this looks like a proper ballroom,” Fareeha smiled. “Now all we need to do is mop.”

“You’re right, this is so much better.” Angela stretched her arms. “But I’m putting my foot down: I’m using magic for this next part. You might want to move back.”

With a grand sweep of her arms, something deep in the mansion rattled. The Reaper wisely moved back, but Fareeha stood in place. What was happening?

From the hallways on the second, third, and fourth floors came an army of buckets and mops. The buckets flew in the air, making a bee-line to the kitchen. Water rushed, and the army of buckets came back, filled with soapy water.

Waving her arms like a symphony conductor, Angela smiled as she worked. The buckets and mops moved towards the back end of the ballroom. Angela’s broom peeled from the wall and began gently brushing Fareeha back towards the stairs and kitchen.

In perfect sync, the mops dunked themselves into the buckets, wrung themselves out, and began mopping. Mop, mop, dunk, rinse, mop, mop. It was mesmerizing to watch.

Conducting the army of mops, Angela hummed as she worked. The mops made quick work of the massive ballroom; they even got under the chairs and sofas. Eventually, they had cleaned the entire ballroom. It couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes. By that time, Fareeha was forced to sit on the stairs as the mops had gotten to the front door.

“That was amazing,” she said.

“Sometimes you just need some good old magic to get things done,” Angela smiled. She directed the mops and buckets to the kitchen, where Fareeha could hear them empty themselves into the massive sink. “It even works up a nice sweat.”

“We’ll need to take a shower.” Then Fareeha got an idea. “Why don’t we use that bathhouse you have?”

That gave Angela pause.

“Was it something I said?”

“No, not really,” Angela said. “It’s…I made that bathhouse for Tess.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Angela said. “She had always wanted to go to a bathhouse at a true hot spring. When I became the Witch of the Wilds and she moved in with me, it was the first room that I made, and it was all for her. Would you believe that the water is from an actual hot spring?”

“How did you get it in here? Wait, let me guess: magic?”

“Exactly,” Angela smiled. “I haven’t used it since…”

Fareeha gently took her hand.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, a bath sounds lovely after this,” she said. “And, and I guess this is part of what Tess wanted. Me moving on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Angela smiled. “Reaper, thank you for your help. You can go about your chores if you’d like.”

The Reaper grunted and turned into smoke, drifting away.

“Where does he go when he’s not working?”

“The basement. His coffin is down there.”

“Remind me to never go into the basement.”

“It’s not all cobwebs and cauldrons,” Angela laughed. “Come on, let’s take a bath.”

“A chance to see you naked again?!” Fareeha said, perking up for kicks and giggles.

“Stop it!”

They walked up to the bathhouse, which was steamy and blissfully warm. Fareeha peeled off her sweaty cloths, setting them in a pile. Angela was still standing at the threshold of the room.

“Hey, come here. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” she said. “Just…there are a lot of memories in here. Not all of them are good.”

“Then we’ll make new ones; better ones.”

Angela smiled. Taking a deep breath, she set a foot into the bathhouse.

“Just as I remember it,” she said. “Thank you for cleaning it.”

“It wasn’t bad, just big.”

“I’m sorry, but when I made this room, I was still new,” Angela said, taking off her clothes. “I wanted to show off to Tess.”

“I’m sure she was blown away!”

“Yes, yes she was.”

Fareeha led Angela to a side room that had a massive shower head. Together, they washed, but Fareeha pulled up a stool for Angela, and forced her to sit down. She spent twenty minutes thoroughly washing her hair, starting from the ends and working her way up to Angela’s roots. Once her hair was fully washed, Fareeha spent an extra-long time giving her a scalp massage. Angela was practically putty in her hands.

Washed and squeaky clean, they both retired to the main warm pool. They sat together, holding hands as they lounged about.

“We should do this more often,” Angela said.

“It’d be a sin not to put this bathhouse to good use.”

“Mmm.”

“How are you feeling?” Fareeha asked.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

Fareeha chuckled. She rested her head on Angela’s shoulder.

“Much better, but at the same time, I’m not sure what I’d do with myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I finally cleaned this whole damn mansion! What am I going to do now?”

“I’ve several lifetimes of hobbies I can teach you.”

“That sounds like a great start.”

This time, Angela laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just had an idea,” Angela said. “Now that we have a clean ballroom, we should use it.”

Angela took her hands, looking into her eyes.

“Will you go to a dance with me?”

“Don’t tell me you can hire a band, or that the Reaper plays an instrument.”

“He’s actually good at the guitar. He makes a good one-man Mariachi band. He even knows Flamenco.”

“You’re just so full of damn surprises!”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course! But I have nothing to wear.”

“There are plenty of dresses in the mansion. Find one you like. I’ll do the same.”

“Only if I keep it a secret from you. I want to knock your socks off.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Angela smiled. “Since the summer is ending, how about we have our dance on the autumnal equinox? That’s a few weeks away, should give you plenty of time to see what dresses you like.”

“It’s a date.”


	18. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha comes face to face with an unexpected discovery, and Angela hosts an unwelcome guest.

Fareeha woke with Angela, when the sun began to rise. While Angela went to her crystal ball, Fareeha did some stretches.

“Oh my.”

“What is it?”

“Several ley lines are severely tangled,” Angela said, getting up from her table by the window. “I’ll have to go out and straighten them.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“Given how tangled they are, it might take all day,” Angela said. She opened her armoire, and pulled out the scandalous dress she always wore when she went out as the Witch of the Wilds.

“I haven’t seen you wear that for months,” Fareeha laughed. She flopped back onto the bed, watching Angela change.

“While I like lounging around in casual clothes,” she said, “I do love this dress.”

“How did you come up with it? And why do you even need to wear it? Wouldn’t any clothes do for the Witch of the Wilds?”

“They would, but I especially like this. Tess made it for me.”

“She must’ve loved seeing you wear something as salacious as that,” Fareeha grinned.

“It was an All Hallows’ Eve costume,” Angela said. She pulled the dress on, adjusting the bodice. “I know things are different with All Hallows’ Eve now, but back in my time, when I just became the Witch, it was a time of celebration. A time to remember the fallen, celebrate the harvest, and as Tess would say, ‘a time for women to dress in very slutty costumes.’”

“’Slutty costumes?’ But she made that for you, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Angela laughed. “As a feminist, she _hated_ the idea of women ‘whoring themselves up.’ But as a lesbian, she _loved_ it!”

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“So she made you your own costume! She must’ve really loved you.”

“She did,” Angela said, pulling her stockings up and clasping them to her dress. “I used to wear it because I loved it. Now I wear it to feel close to her.”

“Is that all the time?”

“You should know the answer to that.”

“Maybe I should make you something to remember me by.”

“Please, don’t,” Angela said sadly. “Not now, when I’m feeling so happy to be with you. I don’t want to be reminded about anything like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Putting her wide-brimmed hat on, Angela walked over to Fareeha. She leaned down to kiss her.

“I know,” she said. “I just want to enjoy what we have, for right now.” She stood up, and held her hand out. Her broom floated into the room, and she gently grabbed it. “Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“It’s been weeks since you had that fight with your mother.” Fareeha’s stomach dropped, and she burned with shame at the things she had said. “You don’t have to visit her, but at least write her a letter telling you how you feel. I can have it delivered.”

“Let me guess: by magic?”

“Exactly,” Angela smiled. “Remember, I’m living vicariously through you; I’d give anything to talk to my mother again.”

“And raising her from the dead wouldn’t solve it?”

“That’s right. Crossing from death requires much sacrifice. By the time you’ve paid the price, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but think of the Reaper. What did he pay…?

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Angela said, sitting on her broom. With a flick of her wrist, one of the windows opened, and she flew out into the morning sky.

Fareeha rolled over in bed, then got up. Angela was right, she had to at least write to her mother. Maybe a letter was the best way to talk to her. It was easy to come up with words when you didn’t have to say them in person; maybe that’s what she needed.

She got up and walked down to the kitchen. Now that it was clean, it was truly wonderful. The sun streamed in through the windows, lighting up every corner of the massive kitchen. Yet it was still a cozy room, filled with warm wood and large chairs.

And standing in the kitchen was the Reaper. Only he wasn’t cooking or cleaning; it was like he was waiting.

“Morning, Reaper.”

Reaper grunted, but remaining rooted in place. Something about it gave Fareeha the creeps.

“I-if you have any chores, you can do them,” she said. “I don’t need any help.”

Reaper grunted, but stayed standing in place. Fareeha tried to walk around him, but he took a side step, blocking her.

Now she was getting really scared.

“Is there something?”

“Yes,” Reaper said. “There is.”

“W-w-what is it?”

Reaper grunted, almost like he was rolling his head. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Suddenly Fareeha remembered how Angela always talked to Reaper, asking him specific things, or leading questions. It reminded her of the Ocular mirror. Angela had said to use it, you had to be painfully specific. Was this the same thing with Reaper? Did she have to ask him leading questions? It was certainly better than standing here, with him looming over her, waiting for something to happen.

“Do you have anything to say?”

“Yes, I do.”

Fareeha waited for him to say something, but the Reaper was quiet. Did she have to ask him?

“Then go ahead, say it.”

“I’ve seen how you make the Witch happy,” Reaper said. “But you’re still a Shield-Maiden, sworn to the realm. That makes her your enemy.”

Fareeha dry-swallowed. It had been so long since she thought about that.

“Back when I was alive,” he said, “back when I was a mortal human, I was a soldier of the realm, too. A sworn Knight.”

“You were a Knight?” Fareeha didn’t know that. “How? Why?”

“We all had to be soldiers. You know how the Witch lead the attacks. Someone with a grudge made a pact, and then the realm was attacked. That was how things were years ago, even before Junkenstein.

“Back then, when I was a soldier, I had a friend. No, a rival. Jack Morrison.”

“You knew the Soldier?”

“I knew him before he was one of the ‘Fabled Four,’” Reaper said. “I knew him when he was only Jack. And I hated him.

“I was a good soldier; one of the best. Sworn to the King’s service, I protected the realm with my every breath. But Jack was always better. Always finding ways to come out on top. When it came to killing, I was far better than him. But he was always the one who got all the honor and glory. His name was always praised above mine.”

“How was he better than you?”

“I always thought it was because he was more popular than me. More visible.” Reaper shook his head. “I was a better killer, a better soldier, but he was a better Knight. That made all the difference. And I grew to hate him. Our friendship soured because of me, and I started hating him with every fiber of my being. When his name was called before mine at a feast, it sent me spitting with rage. When the King pinned a medal to his chest before mine, it sent me seething for days. And when his exploits were told more than mine, it was all I could do to keep from screaming. I hated him for making me look back, for stealing me of my well-deserved glory!”

Reaper pounded one of the tables. Even though it was made from wood easily half a foot thick, the force still jarred it, making it jump and knocking it about.

“Until one day, I was out for a run along the edges of the enchanted forest. I was simmering in my hate, and I took a wrong turn. Soon, I was lost. And soon, I was at a strange mansion. The woods did something, read something in my mind, and drew me here.

“I knew what this place was, even though I’ve never seen it before. And I knocked at the door, wanting the Witch to make a pact with me. I could finally be better than Jack. I could be the better soldier.

“She tried to talk me out of it. Gave me warning after warning after warning. But I was so filled with envy and hate, I signed everything she put in front of me, ignored all the warnings, ignoring the fine print. I just wanted to be the best soldier anyone could be, because she could make me the best, and damn everything else.

 “And she did make me the best. A good soldier is strong; she made me stronger than any mortal man; that was what I expected. But a good soldier isn’t bothered by wounds that would stop a living man. I had to die to make it happen; she killed me, then raised me from the dead, remaking me, and tearing my soul apart to pay the price to cross back from death. And above all else, a good soldier never thinks for himself, he always obeys orders; she made me an obedient slave.”

“What do you mean, ‘an obedient slave?’”

“I can’t do anything for myself,” Reaper said. “I have to be told.”

“Is that why Angela always asks for your help?” Fareeha gasped.

“Yes,” he said. “She could order me, and I’d have to listen. But she knows what she did to me; maybe she still has pity for me. I think she asks to be polite.”

“Then that’s why I had to ask you to talk? You couldn’t do it yourself?”

“Yes.”

Angela never told her what Reaper’s pact was. It was ‘magician-patient privilege.’ She could never tell Fareeha what it was, but if the patient told her, that was something else.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “But why? Why tell me now?”

“Because you’ll have to make a choice soon,” the Reaper said. “Between your sworn duty to the realm, or your love to the Witch.”

Reaper’s hand twitched, like he wanted to do something. He thought better of it, then seemed to ignore his better instinct. He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be like me. Don’t be a model soldier,” he said. “A model soldier always obeys, just like a slave. Never blindly bend the knee, always do what _you_ want, what _you_ think is best. I wanted to be a good soldier, and look what it got me. I’m the best, but I can’t do anything for myself. I can barely think for myself.”

Fareeha took his hand. It was so much bigger than hers.

“Thank you.”

Reaper grunted, taking his hand back.

“If your name isn’t Reaper, what should I call you?”

“No, my name _is_ Reaper,” he said. “I used to be Gabriel Reyes, but that man died. He died once he signed the Witch’s pact, when he was killed and sent to the afterlife. I’m the pieces that were pulled back; I’m what remains.”

“That’s the price you had to pay to come back to life? You’re…broken? Not your full self?”

Reaper groaned, shifting his feet. Fareeha had the feeling that he didn’t want to answer, and was resisting as best he could.

“Y-you don’t have to tell me,” she stammered. “Nothing like details, I was just…you don’t have to say anything.”

“Thank you.”

"But, I do have to ask. Why haven't we heard of you? If you were a sworn Knight, why aren't you in our records?"

"I can only assume the Knights struck my name from all of their records to hide their shame," he said. "It must not be very honorable to count a conspirator of the Witch as a brother."

"Yes, that makes sense," Fareeha mumbled. If she stayed with Angela, would the Maidens do the same to her? Burn her name from every record? No, once a Maiden, always a Maiden; that was a vow their sisterhood took with deadly seriousness, perhaps more so than the vow they took to their King. The Knights were a fraternity, just like how the Maidens were a sorority, but the Maidens enjoyed a more tight-knit relationship with each other than the Knights. At least, that's what Fareeha had heard when the two were compared. 

Reaper stood where he was, unmoving, just staring at her. It took Fareeha a few awkward seconds to realize he couldn’t move on his own will.

“If you have any chores to do,” she said, “you can go about them.”

Reaper grunted, and walked off towards the cellar. She had choices to make, but she didn’t want to think about it. So she settled for writing a letter.

Fareeha found a sheet of vellum in the ballroom, along with a fountain pen. She sat down at a desk, and started writing.

 

_Mother,_

_I’m sorry that I said those things, and ran off in the morning. I don’t know if he told you, but Jack talked to me before I left. I know you want the best for me, but please, don’t hate me for having to fulfil my duty. The King used me to save the realm, I have to return to—_

 

Fareeha almost wrote ‘Angela.’

 

_—To the Witch. I know being taken away kills you, and I’m sorry for yelling at you, for saying you put the Maidens over me._

 

Now she was lying. She had to be truthful. She crossed out the last line.

 

_The truth is, I said it because I used to feel that way. I always felt that I was a secondary concern. I know that’s not what I was, but I can’t help but feel that way. I wish I could’ve spent more time with you when I was a girl, that you could have been more of a mother to me. But you are_ my _mother, and I love you for everything you’ve done. I wouldn’t trade you for anything._

_I know that you think the Witch is putting a spell on me, but please, don’t think that. I’m perfectly safe here. I can’t visit you now, I’m still trying to sort out how I feel, but I want you to know that I will come back, once I’ve found the right things to say to you in person. Now, I can only write this letter._

_Please don’t hate me for the things that have to be done. I’ll find a way to make it all right._

_Your loving daughter, Fareeha._

 

It was a sloppy letter, but she had put all of her feelings into it, and she could barely comprehend what she was feeling, let alone articulate it. But this was a good start. Fareeha set it aside; she’ll come back to it when she had more time to think things over.

Maybe she’ll tear it up and start from scratch.

Fareeha shook her head. She needed to clear her mind, not spend all day thinking about the letter, or what Reaper said. She needed something to do.

Angela said she would be back for dinner; she should cook something. It was too long since she made something for Angela.

Maybe she could make some fondue. Make a sensual dinner, perk both of them up. Now she was thinking of Angela, in her Witch costume, leaning over a table as she was fed fondue. Then Fareeha had a better idea. It was cheesy and clichéd, yes, but Angela liked cliché.

She ran to the larder to start cooking.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting when Angela returned. The doors to the mansion opened, and the cool breeze blew in. It was what Fareeha was waiting for.

“You’re back!”

She pranced towards the door. Angela was setting her massive hat on a coat rack. Seeing Fareeha, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“W-what are you wearing?”

“An apron,” Fareeha grinned. After getting dinner set up, she had dolled herself up with her full makeup set, curled her hair, and was wearing an apron. _Just_ an apron. “I had to do some cooking.”

“W-what?” Angela said. She was burning beet red. Fareeha missed seeing her like this.

“Come on,” she said, taking Angela’s hand. She led her back to the kitchen; she could practically feel Angela’s eyes glued to her ass. She made sure to walk with a more pronounced strut. “Dinner is served!”

She had spent the entire day cooking, and a full meal was set out for them.

“You can have baked squash, string beans, potato leek soup, a chicken dish I call Two Hens Laughing…” Fareeha turned and dramatically sat on the table, posing like she was a centerfold, “or _me_.”

Angela almost doubled over laughing.

“What?” Fareeha said. She could feel herself blushing.

“’You can have dinner, or me?’” Angela laughed. “Oh Gods, did you practice that line in a mirror?”

“N-no!”

“I think you did,” she smiled.

“Maybe…”

“This is just too much. I’m sorry, it just is!” Angela laughed.

“I thought you’d like clichés,” Fareeha pouted. And she had spent so long getting her makeup right!

“I do love it,” Angela said. “But it’s just _so_ clichéd, it broke the spell.”

“You don’t like it,” she groaned.

Angela walked over to her, cupping her face in her hands.

“I thought I made myself clear,” she said. “I love what you did. I love what you said, I _love_ your makeup and hair, and I love seeing you in only an apron. I love everything you did. But you have to admit, it was terribly funny.”

“Okay, maybe a bit…”

“See?” Angela gently flicked her wrist, and the dishes and food were pushed away from Fareeha. Angela deftly unhooked the clasp that was behind her head, and threw the apron aside as she pushed her legs apart.

“This all looks delicious,” she said, looking up at Fareeha as she knelt down, “but I think I’ll eat my desert first.”

 

* * *

 

Angela was lounging on one of the many sofas they recently re-arranged. She had found another romance book that Fareeha bought for her, and was engrossed in it.

Fareeha lay with her, stretched out with her head in her lap. She was re-reading the letter she wrote to her mother. She knew that she had a lot of work to do on it, but at the same time, she couldn’t think of anything to add to it. She’d spent the last two days staring at it, trying to and failing to add anything to it.

Maybe she should go back to fretting about the dresses she had found so far. The day of their dance was coming up, and she had to choose between four.

It was all incredibly stressful.

She put the letter down and snuggled closer to Angela; it could wait for a little while longer. Giggling, Angela ran her fingers through her hair. Maybe she’d take a nap and get back to the letter later.

Just when she was about to nod off, there was a great pounding at the door. It jerked Fareeha awake.

“What was that?” Fareeha asked. She had tried pounding on the door before, but it was so massive, she never made a sound. Whomever was knocking was incredibly strong.

“Reaper?” Angela called.

Black smoke ran along the ground, a sign of the Reaper. It ran under the door, then came back. Forming a pool, Reaper rose from it.

“Dr. Junkenstein and his Creation are at the door,” he said.

At first, Fareeha’s blood ran cold, then it began to warm with hate. Dr. Junkenstien? Here? She needed a weapon. She had to stop the mad man from…

Then she remembered she was with Angela, not back home. At least her Shield-Maiden habits were in no danger of dying off.

“By the Old Gods, he probably wants more revenge,” Angela sighed. “No doubt to sign another pact.”

The doors shook as the Monster pounded on them.

“I’ll have to change,” she said. “Have to look like the Witch of the Wilds.”

“What do you mean, ‘to sign another pact?’”

“He undoubtably wants to attack the kingdom again,” Angela sighed. “Like he’s done these past years.”

Attacking the realm? Suddenly, Fareeha remembered how Angela thought she would die.

“Can’t you say no?” Fareeha asked.

That got Angela to stop.

“If he wants to attack the realm, what’s making you go along with him?” She asked. “Can’t you just tell him no?”

“I have to tell him something.”

The Monster pounded on the door again. The massive doors rattled in their frames. Just how strong was the damned thing?

“I know you want a battle,  you want an end,” Fareeha said, taking her hand. “But can’t we just stay here, together? Forget about your future; it’s not set. There’s no fate but what we make for ourselves.”

“But the future _is_ set,” Angela said. “Remember? The Ocular is made of powerful magic; too power to be wrong.”

“Please. Remember the pact you made with me. Us, together, for at least a year.”

Angela looked over Fareeha’s shoulder. It was impossible to guess what she was thinking.

“I have to change,” she mumbled. “Reaper, please let the good Doctor in once I’m in my chambers. Be a gracious host. Fareeha, I would like it if you could entertain him until I’m back.”

Angela gently pulled her hand back, and held it out. Her broom floated to her; she jumped on it, floating up to her room on the fourth floor. Fareeha watched her, until the Reaper opened the door.

“Aah, ‘bout time ya let me in,” Dr. Junkenstein laughed. Fareeha fought back the urge to curl her lip back and glare at the man.

Dr. Junkenstein was a thin twig of a man, with wisps of wiry hair, wearing his omnipresent dirty-white lab coat. He wore ridiculous goggles, protecting his eyes from who knew what, and tottered in on a cybernetic peg leg. His right hand was a metal prosthetic, and it clattered about was a flurry of motion as it opened, closed, touched finger to finger, or fiddled with an errant wrench. It was either a reflection of Dr. Junkenstein’s hyperactivity, or it had a mind of its own.

But what stopped Fareeha in her tracks was the Monster the doctor had made. It was human, but only barely. It was tall, as tall as King Reinhardt, but so much more massive. It had a massive chest and gut, and all of its stitched together corpse-skin was a sickly green. Bolts attached its neck, and sparks of electricity randomly shot out, harmlessly arcing with anything that was metal.

The Monster was an abomination, but Fareeha knew how strong it was. Like a semi-truck, it was big, loud, ungainly, but possessed an almost supernatural level of strength. It was as strong, possibly stronger than even Zarya; after all, it was the Monster that gave her pink-haired friend the scar across her brow. As the Monster trudged in, shaking the ground, it carried a massive sack. Tendrils of cold air rolled off it, and frost lined the outside of the back.

“Oh, this must be the Sheila th’ Witch took fer herself,” Junkenstein laughed. “Pleasure ta meet ya.”

“I know who you are,” Fareeha said. “And it is _not_ a pleasure.”

“Of course it ain’t! Yer supposed ta work fer that damn king a yers,” Junkenstein spat. The sudden change from merriment to spite caught Fareeha off-guard.

Then he smiled, and went back to idle joy and mad laughter.

“But maybe that’s changed, yea?” He giggled. “I mean, yer here, right? He gave ya away, ain’t he?”

Then Junkenstein spun on his peg leg, and made a bee-line to Reaper.

“Good ol’ Reapy! How’s it hanging?”

Reaper grunted.

“Mind showing me ta th’ kitchen? I’m afraid I’ll lose my way.”

Reaper trudged towards the kitchen, Junkenstein in tow.

“Come along, Mako!” The doctor said, waving at the Monster.

The Monster, answering to ‘Mako,’ lumbered after him. The thing’s weight made the ground shake. Fareeha followed from as safe a distance as she could.

“Oooh, the kitchen is clean this time,” Junkenstein said. “Must like me ta get that mess tamed.”

The Doctor sat down at the first table he found; his Monster stood beside him. Reaper stood opposite, waiting for Angela.

“Speak a the devil, and she shall appear!” Junkenstein laughed.

Angela, dressed in her Witch costume, floated in on her broom. Her broom floated up to the table, next to Reaper. She tapped the spot next to her, signaling Fareeha to sit with her.

“Dr. Junkenstein,” she said. “To whom do I owe this displeasure?”

“The king, the king, the goddamn king,” he laughed. “Whom else would I be here for?”

“I was hoping that you’d find it in you to change.”

“Ha! I’ll change when I’m dead!”

“Careful, doctor. That could be a lot sooner than you’d expect,” Angela said.

“Eh, I’ll worry ‘bout that later. But first, for old time’s sake, I’d like to invoke guest rights.”

“You’ve been here before; you don’t trust me?”

“There’s a lot of pomp and circumstance and trash about ceremonies,” Junkenstein said. “But I’ve always liked one that centered ‘round drinking. ‘Sides, you got good wine.”

He was right about that.

Angela twirled her fingers, and from the wine cabinet came a bottle of red wine. Three glasses followed.

“Gotta say, love what ya did with the place,” the doctor said, taking a glass from midair.

“Thank you. It was time for a change,” Angela said. “And despite what you say, you can’t change when your dead.”

“You can when you make life!”

“Just remember who told you the right way to make life.”

“And I’m eternally grateful.”

Fareeha doubted that.

The bottle uncorked itself, and poured wine for Angela, Fareeha, and Junkenstein.

“None for Mako?” The Mad Doctor said, jerking a thumb at the Monster.

“He’s beholden to his master, but we might as well put the wine to good use,” Angela said. Two more glasses floated out, for the Monster and Reaper.

“An’ now yer drinking from a glass. No more polishing off bottles for you?”

“I’m cutting back.”

“Damn shame.”

With all the glasses filled, Angela raised hers high.

“In accordance with the Old Gods, we honor guest right,” she said. “No violence will be brought into this house, no blood spilt. On our souls, we swear it.”

Fareeha drank with everyone. It actually made her feel better with sharking a room with Junkenstein and his Monster.

“Right,” the doctor said, pushing his empty glass aside, “down to brass tacks. I want that castle in ruins. I want the King on his knees, begging for his life. I want him to rue the day he thought he could laugh at Jamison Junkerstein—”

“No.”

“And I want it—! Wha’?”

“I said, ‘no,’” Angela said, sipping at her wine.

“Why the hell not?” Junkenstein demanded, pounding the table with his metal fist.

“Because I’m tired of it all,” Angela sighed. “All the rush, all the war, all the fighting. I think I deserve a year or three off.”

“Bullshit,” Junkenstein spat. “You said you wanted your end, and it would come to ya at the end of a war. I gave you that! I gave you the war you were looking for!”

“But not the end I _wanted,_ ” she said. “Each attack ended with you barely escaping with your life.”

“And I get better every year,” he snarled. “This year, I’ll bring the castle down ‘round everyone’s ears!”

“How many times have I heard that?” Angela mused. “The answer is still no.”

Fareeha tried to keep her face neutral, but it was hard when she wanted to smile. Then again, what was she happy about? The realm, being safe from attack? Or Angela, listening to her, being able to spend more time with her?

Did it really matter? Angela was fighting against her ‘fate!’

“I need the kingdom crashed,” Junkenstein spat. “No one insults a Junkenstein and lives to tell the tale!”

“What was the insult?” Fareeha asked.

Junkenstein whirled on her with insane, frothing rage in his eyes.

“The king called my work trash!” He said, showering her with spittle. He was practically foaming at the mouth. “Trinkets! Slaves and children’s toys! I make science, I make marvels! I don’t deserve to be treated as some court jester!”

“A worthy desire, but perhaps gone about the wrong way,” Angela said. “Either way, I will not be helping you.”

“I brought you what you need,” Junkenstein said. “Just what you tasked me with the last few times. Mako, show her!”

The Monster set the frost-lined bag down, and pulled a jar from it. It was a human heart, frozen in ice.

“Hearts,” he spat. “Hearts for you to pull the life from, to give to my zomnics! Give me the army I need!”

“I already gave you the answer. That answer is no.”

“Damn you, Witch!” Junkenstein howled. “Don’t you deny me this!”

“But I am. I think I need a vacation from all this plotting, planning, and battles,” she said. “That is my final answer.”

“Then I’ll take the power I need from you!” Junkenstein snarled. “Mako, tear her—!” 

“You’ll break guest rights?” Angela smiled.

That got the mad doctor to stop mid-syllable.

“I guess I should thank you for demanding guest rights. Without this, things would be a lot less pleasant.”

Reaper loudly cracked his knuckles. The Monster squared off with him.

“Reaper won’t break guest rights. Can I have your word that your Creation won’t? Or will I have to do it for you…?”

Junkenstein glared death at her.

“Mako, not now,” he said through clenched teeth.

The Monster trudged, turning away from Reaper.

“Now, this is enough excitement for me,” Angela said. “I’ll show you out of my mansion.”

Junkenstein picked up the bottled, frozen heart and gave it back to his Monster. It placed it in the bag along with the others.

“I dug up a lot of graves for these,” he spat. “A lot of freshly dead corpses.”

“Maybe you’ll find a use for them later,” Angela said. “This way, please.”

Sitting on her broom, she showed them to the door.

“This isn’t done, Witch,” Junkenstein yelled as he left the mansion. “You’ll regret the day for spitting in my face!”

Reaper closed the door with a hearty slam.

“Thank you, Reaper. He was becoming quite annoying. You can go about your business if you’d like.”

Reaper grunted and walked away.

Fareeha wrapped Angela in a tight hug, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Thank you,” she said, burying her face in her shoulder.

“No, I should thank you,” Angela said, holding her tight. “I’ve grown too fatalistic. My death is out there, but you’re right, this isn’t the time for it. This is my time, time I get to spend with you.”

Fareeha kissed her like her life depended on it.

“I could tear the clothes off you,” she said.

“’Could?’ No ‘going to?’”

“I like your costume,” Fareeha smiled. “Can you keep it on? I’ve always wanted to be thrown about and taken by the Witch of the Wilds.”

“Oh gods, you’re so damn cheesy,” Angela laughed.

But she did keep the costume on.


	19. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With All Hallow's Eve upon them, Fareeha helps Angela bring in the harvest. Then, our birbs get their dance.

The sun had yet to break over the enchanted forest, but Fareeha found herself standing in Angela’s personal farm.

“I never thought I’d be a farmer,” she said.

“But you knew about the farm I have,” Angela said. “What did you think would happen when the harvest came?”

“I thought you’d magic everything to do itself.”

“Magic helps, but with something this big, I could use help,” Angela laughed. “For small things like summoning small items or flying on my broomstick, the magic practically works itself.”

“Like how you were able to get all those mops to wash the ballroom floor?”

“Exactly. But for larger things, I have to concentrate. So yes, I can do the full harvest by myself, but I like the help.”

“And I just _had_ to take a vow pledging to help any beautiful woman I came across,” Fareeha sighed.

“You didn’t actually take a vow for that, did you?”

“Yes, but not like a ‘vow before the king’ kind of vow,” she said. “More like a ‘vow to meet a pretty lady, maybe get laid’ sort of thing.”

“You’re too much,” Angela laughed.

“Well, if I have to be a farmer, shouldn’t I at least wear big, denim-bibbed overalls?” She grinned.

“Oh, for the love of the new gods, that’s way too much of a cliché!”

“But what if I want to be a cliché for you? Hypothetically?”

“I’d tell you to get real, the junk clothes you’re wearing now are just fine, and that we had a full day of work to do,” Angela smiled back. “Hypothetically.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty…” Fareeha grumbled. “And why did you have to wait until now? We have our dance tonight.”

“Because we can act like we’re in a fairy tale,” Angela said. “We’re like Cinderella, working our fingers to the bone during the day, only to transform for the evening into beautiful creatures to win the heart of our beloved.”

“I should add ‘hopeless romantic’ to the list of things you like.”

“I guess it comes with my age,” Angela laughed. “Now we really do have to get started. Even with my magic, it’s a long day’s work to complete this harvest.”

“Leave it to me,” Fareeha said, throwing up a mock salute. Angela lightly hit her shoulder, but there was a grin across her face as she did it.

Angela grabbed her broom and was about to fly off, but Fareeha grabbed her and got one last kiss in. Blushing, Angela floated on up into the morning air.

It had been more than a week since Dr. Junkenstein visited, and was turned away. More than a week since Junkenstein had sworn vengeance on the ‘slight’ of being turned away; more than a week since she had Angela send her letter off to her mother. Fareeha had thought she would simply make the letter fly, but Angela was able to charm a bird into carrying it for her. It was like a fairy tale. Since then, she had spent nearly every day with Angela, fretting both privately and to Angela that maybe she should’ve written something different.

But re-reading it didn’t do anything for her. It was a rambling, disjointed letter, but she couldn’t think of anything to add to it. Sighing, Fareeha did her best to put it out of her mind. It was done, and there wasn’t anything she could do to take it back. She had to learn to live with it.

She walked over to the barn, where the Reaper was waiting with various tools.

“Well, you ready to work?” She asked Reaper.

Reaper grunted.

“You like doing this?”

“Actually, I do,” he said.

“Then this’ll be a good day for you.”

Reaper grunted, but it sounded like he had a grin on his face. If only she could see under his mask.

She gave Angela the thumbs-up. Floating above the farm, Angela waved back. She made a show of stretching, then she made several rapid-fire gestures. The various tools that Reaper brought out jumped to life, floating above the ground. Scythes, hoes, and even several front ends for various combines were pulled to life.

It looked like Angela was conducting an orchestra. Scythes went to the wheat fields and began cutting the grains down. Combines when to the corn fields and began working.

“Angela said she needed help with the hay, right?”

Reaper grunted an affirmative.

“Guess we better head there.”

She walked with the Reaper to the hay fields, where Angela was controlling several tools. The hay was cut down by a team of scythes, and gathered into a nice little row. But it needed to be in a bale. Reaper lead a team of horses, namely Edward, to the fields. They were attached to a large combine that would gather the hay and turn it into massive rolls.

“Guess even Angela can’t do everything herself, right?” Fareeha said.

“As much as she tries to act otherwise, no, she can’t,” Reaper said.

“Then let’s get a move on, I have a date tonight. Hyaa!”

She gently gave the horses a tap, and they moved forward, dragging the combine behind them. The day went by slowly, and Fareeha was quickly drenched in sweat.

Finally, after a near-backbreaking amount of work, they finished the hay. It seemed to take forever, but looking at Jack’s watch showed that it wasn’t even noon.

“Is this what it’s like being a farmer?” She gasped. “Damn. Maybe Zarya should give this a try, I’m already aching.”

She worked with Reaper to hitch the rolls of hay to a horse, and they dragged the bales to the barn. Angela was still in the air, directing the scythes and combines and other tools to bring in the harvest. The grain was almost done, and the corn was coming along. Sadly, there was still the small plants that needed to be taken care of, such as the beans, pumpkins, and squash.

Fareeha and Reaper had to do most of the work themselves; there was no simple way around it. They filled bushel after bushel with plants, working through noon.

Once they were done, they had to help Angela with the piles of wheat and corn that were harvested. They had to bring in bushels and bushels of beans, cord, and lettuce, but at long last, the entire farm was harvested.

“Dammit, you had to do this all by yourself?” Fareeha gasped, leaning against the barn.

“It was worse before I had Reaper to help me,” Angela said. She handed Fareeha a big glass of water, which was drained it in one go. “But we’re all done.”

“Thank the old gods. I’m way too sweaty.”

“But we have all afternoon to freshen up for our dance,” Angela said, her eyes aglow.

“Think I’ll take a heavy nap to work this off.”

“I might join you.”

“You think I’d put out _before_ a date?” Fareeha said. “I’m not that kind of woman!”

“Damn, thought I’d get lucky,” Angela laughed.

“There’s still tonight.”

 

* * *

 

A nice, long nap was exactly what Fareeha needed. She claimed one of the many bedrooms in the mansion; she had to keep everything a secret from Angela so she could see the look on her face when she walked down the stairs to their dance. Fareeha woke up as the sun was starting to set, giving her just enough time to take another shower and get dressed up. She took a little extra time making sure her makeup was on point, as well as lightly curling her hair.

She had found the perfect dress, and was actually giddy to wear it. She was never much of a girly-girl, but this dress was just so pretty and perfect, she was looking forward to wearing it. She checked Jack’s watch. She was fashionably late. Perfect.

She walked out of the bedroom on the second floor, and peeked over the stair’s bannister. Angela was at the bottom of the stairs, shifting from foot to foot, anxious waiting for her.

Grinning, Fareeha took her time walking down the stairs. As soon as she started walking down, Angela saw her, and looked up, smiling. Her smile faltered when she saw Fareeha; she ended up gasping.

Fareeha narrowed her choices between a blue dress, and a green dress. She was sorely tempted to go with the blue dress, but she wore an awful lot of blue. It looked good on her, but she wanted to try something different.

So instead, she wore a billowing dark green/jade dress. It was the color of the deep woods, parts of the enchanted forest that rarely saw the sunlight. It stretched to the floor, and actually needed a small hoop to fill out properly. The sleeves of the dress tapered out, billowing out into lace instead of hugging her forearms tightly. She had a lovely dark green bodice, stitched with flowing vines. There was plenty of lace frill along her neckline, but instead of being bone white, the lace was a deep crème color.

Fareeha picked the dress because it made her look like a jade dragon.

Judging from Angela’s gaping expression, she was beautiful.

Not to say that Angela was any less stunning. Fareeha had to bite her lip when she stared at the beautiful Witch. Angela wore a dress that blended several fiery colors. There was plenty of deep yellows, bright reds, and vibrant oranges that made up the dress. The colors were so expertly blended, it was hard to tell where one color ended, and another began. It was all one giant, fiery, beautiful gradient.

Naturally, the dress accented her gorgeous breasts and hips. Fareeha had to tear her eyes off the dress to look at Angela in the eyes. She looked like a phoenix, risen from the ashes.

“Gods,” Angela gasped. “You…where did you find that dress?”

“Like it?” Fareeha asked, doing a twirl once she was on the ground.

“Like it?! I love it! You, you’re…”

Angela was beyond words. Fareeha laughed, and put the woman out of her struggles. She pulled her close and kissed her deep.

“And you’re ten different kinds of beautiful wearing that.”

“T-thank you.”

“I was talking to the dress,” Fareeha winked.

That pulled a laugh from Angela.

“Well, shall we?” She asked, holding a hand out to Fareeha.

“What shall we dance to?”

“What do you like?”

“My mother likes to ballroom dance, can we start with that?”

Angela raised her hands. Instruments sounded, finding their right pitch. Fareeha turned around, only just seeing various instruments in the ballroom floating in the air.

There was nearly a full orchestra for them. Violins, violas, flutes, piccolos, cellos, they all floated in the air, like an invisible orchestra was sitting in the ballroom. The only person there was the Reaper, who held a steel-strung guitar.

“Are you playing all these instruments?” Fareeha asked.

“I wish!” Angela said. “No, I’m simply enchanting them, allowing them to read the sheet music on the stand. They’ll follow the music.”

“And Reaper?”

“He’s actually very good,” Angela said. “He’ll follow along. I told him to follow the music, to do whatever he thinks would add to it.”

Sure enough, the instruments started playing a nice, easy waltz. Reaper joined in with the guitar. The music swelled, echoing through the ballroom. The acoustics were amazing.

“Dance with me?” Angela asked, holding her hand out.

“I wouldn’t dance with anyone else,” Fareeha said, taking her hand.

The instruments floated in the air, playing a gentle tune perfect for a waltz. Ana loved to ballroom dance, and had taught Fareeha nearly everything she knew. Fareeha let Angela start, but slowly took the lead, spinning Angela about the massive ballroom. She couldn’t help but laugh and gaze at Angela as they danced.

The song ended, a page magically flipped, and a new song began. They danced and danced, crossing the massive ballroom dozens of times. She wanted to get a drink of water, but she also didn’t want to stop.

Fortunately, Angela made the decision for her.

“I need a break,” she gasped.

“I’m glad you said it first.”

Angela led her to a sofa, where they both collapsed. She waved her hand, and a serving tray floated over, carrying cold water and tall glasses.

“Gods, this is the most fun I’ve had in a while,” Angela said, draining her glass.

“More fun than our board game nights?”

“Yes, but not by much,” Angela smiled.

Fareeha downed her water as fast as she could. She still wanted to dance.

“Let’s get back to it,” she said. “Why don’t you pick? What music do you like?”

“Call me old,” Angela said, getting to her feet, “but I have a soft spot for swing.”

“You’re old,” Fareeha laughed. “But I like that about you.”

“I’m so glad,” Angela laughed. “Do you know how to swing dance?”

“No, you’ll have to show me.”

“With pleasure!”

Angela sprung up from the sofa, and with a clap of her hands, the music shifted to a faster-paced swing. She took Fareeha’s hands, and began leading her about the floor. Fareeha had seen a few swing dances, but had never actually danced herself.

Fortunately, Angela started slow, so that Fareeha could match her movements, but slowly sped up. Soon she was leading Fareeha across the floor, spinning her as easy as it was to breathe.

She thought that ballroom dancing was fun, but the energy of the swing music proved to be even more fun. Fareeha never wanted this evening to end.

It was only when her feet started getting sore did she realize how much time had passed. They began dancing when the sun was just setting; now the moon was high in the sky. Letting go of Angela’s delicate hand, she pulled Jack’s watch out of the only pocket the dress had; it was nearly eleven o’clock at night.

“Gods, I didn’t know it was this late,” she gasped.

“What’s that about time flying…?” Angela laughed. She magically summoned the serving tray over to them, where she gave Fareeha a glass of water.

“You’re right. I never want this evening to stop.” Fareeha laughed. “Is there a pact I can make with you to make sure that happens? That this evening never stops?”

“Sadly, I can’t make any pacts that break the flow of time,” Angela said.

“Damn, you’re no fun.”

“I still have my duties as the Witch of the Wilds.” Angela got a mischievous look in her eyes. “Want to change it up again?”

“What makes you think I’d say ‘no?’”

“Reaper? I’m sure you’d like to play some different music. Play what you want.”

Reaper nodded, and broke from the orchestra. While the instruments floated in air, unused, Reaper began playing. The guitar sang, striking up a fast tempo with intricate cords. It was flamenco music.

“I had Reaper teach me a few things,” Angela smiled. “Are you okay with following again?”

“I’d follow you anywhere.”

Laughing, Angela took the lead in dancing. The flamenco music was a much higher tempo, and Fareeha was spun about as Angela led her along. Flamenco called for quick changes, stomping, and spins. Angela hit every note with grace, stomping where it felt like the music called for it, spinning Fareeha this way and that. She laughed, trying to mimic and keep pace with the lovely Witch.

Fareeha’s heart was pounding as they continued the dance. By the gods, she’d sell her soul to keep this moment alive forever.

But her body had other ideas. The nap that helped prop her up began fading, and the day in the field began telling her to stop. Gasping for breath, she had to be the first to quit.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I just need a break.”

“Thank the gods,” Angela gasped. “I thought you could go forever.”

“Well, nearly forever.” She led Angela over to a nearby sofa, where she collapsed. “I think I’d have to call it an evening. I’m dead on my feet.”

“Same here. But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

“The most fun I ever had!”

“Reaper, than you so much for playing,” Angela said. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“You’re welcome,” Reaper said, a smile in his voice. “Yes, I liked this.”

“I’ll have to have you play more. You can go about your chores if you’d like.”

Reaper grunted, but it sounded like he was looking forward to it. He stood, and began to walk away. Fareeha clapped, and was quickly followed by Angela. Reaper paused, almost as if he was unsure of what to do, but quickly composed himself, bowing deeply to the two women.

“Hard to believe that it’s almost been a year,” Fareeha said.

“Gods, just incredible.”

“Sounds like you’ve enjoyed having me around.”

“Of course! I thought that was obvious.”

“And I love being around you,” Fareeha grinned. “But we’re only a few days from All Hallows’ Eve. We’ll have to renew the pact.”

“You…you still want to spend your life with me?”

“Of course. Why are you so surprised?”

“It’s just…I’m the Witch of the Wilds,” Angela said. “I never thought I’d be the one worthy of your love.”

“Not with that attitude,” Fareeha grinned. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can. Can I do that? Can I renew my pact?”

“A-as long as you do it on your own free will,” Angela said, blushing heavily.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Angela smiled, and took her hands.

“You have given yourself to me for this year,” she said. “Will you give yourself to me for another?”

“Yes.”

“Then the pact is renewed,” Angela said, leaning in for a kiss.

“Just like that? I thought there would be something…I don’t know, more magical about it,” Fareeha said. “Like, sparks surrounding us or lights dancing about.”

“Nothing so garish like that,” Angela laughed. “It’s a simple pledge.”

“A pledge that started out as a mistake.”

“I’m so glad I made this mistake.”

“I’m glad I went along with the orders of my king.”

“Then we’re both thankful for this,” Angela laughed.

“It looks that way,” Fareeha said. “Can I spend All Hallows’ Eve with you? After that, I’d need to go home more.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“I would, kind of. I’m not looking forward to talking with my mother. But I also don’t want to leave you for a second.”

“And I you.”

Fareeha laughed.

“Maybe we can dress this place up for All Hallows’ Eve!”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Angela laughed.

“Gods, I want to see you smile like this every day I’m alive.”

“And I want to give you days like this every single chance that I get. From here, to the end of days.”

Fareeha gently grabbed Angela and held her close. She couldn’t have this day last forever, but she was perfectly fine with making this moment last for as long as she could.

 

* * *

 

All Hallows’ Eve was upon them. Fareeha ran through the mansion, checking everything. Gourds were set up on every table, along with carved pumpkins. Angela had taken large leaves from the forest and enchanted them, sticking the dark orange and red leaves across every wall like they were garland. She had enchanted swaths of candles; they floated in the air, adding spooky ambiance.

The entire mansion looked like an extension of the enchanted woods, and like how the Witch’s mansion was supposed to look in every cheap horror movie; dark, foreboding, and evil. It was perfect.

“Can you find anything else that we can dress up?” Angela asked.

“Reaper, can you bring any more pumpkins?”

“Yes. There are several we can use.”

Suddenly, an idea popped into Fareeha’s head.

“Please bring the biggest one you can find,” she said.

Reaper walked off.

“What are you thinking?” Angela asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You got that look in your eyes,” she said. “That look you get when you have one of your ideas.”

“I bet you like those eyes,” Fareeha grinned, leaning close to Angela.

“I love these eyes,” Angela said, kissing her. “But I’d like to know what’s going on behind them.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Reaper walked back into the kitchen, carrying a large pumpkin.

“Thank you,” Fareeha said. “Now, let’s get to work.”

“Doing what?”

“Carving a face into this.”

“What do you want it to look like?”

“Just so it goes along with this,” Fareeha said. She held up the pumpkin to Reaper’s head, so the pumping _was_ his head. Angela couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Reaper, are you okay with where this is going?”

“Yes,” he laughed.

“Then let’s give him what he wants!”

The two carved the pumpkin into a big, evil-looking face. It had two large, narrow eyes, like he was glaring at something. The pumpkin had small nose carvings, and a large, rictus grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“Hold on one second,” Angela said. With a wave of her hand, the pumpkin floated up, and set itself on Reaper’s head. It grew in size until Reaper could slip it over his head like a mask, and then it shrunk to size.

Suddenly, Reaper had a head made of pumpkin instead of his white mask.

“Gods, that’s perfect,” Fareeha laughed.

Reaper laughed, too.

“I think we’re almost done,” Angela said. “Now we just have to—“

Something exploded in the ballroom. The mansion shook, and Fareeha had to check her balance.

“What the hell?”

She ran to the nearest window, Angela hot on her heels.

Outside, on the lawn of the mansion, was a massive battle line. Fareeha instantly recognized it; it was a siege formation. And it was manned with the Sworn Swords of the Realm.

Shield-Maidens stood ready, abreast with the Knights of the realm. Soldiers and Thanes stood, ready to advance on the mansion. Fareeha saw Zarya armed with her particle cannon, Lena next to her with her twin pistols, and even Hana in the massive pink MEKA. And behind their lines was the Viking, setting up siege engines. Turrets and artillery were stationed just behind the wall of bodies. They lobbed shells and explosives at the mansion, rocking it to the foundations.

Standing at the head of the battle line was King Reinhardt, girded for war, gripping his massive war hammer tight in his hand. Next to him was the Fabled Four, the Archer, the Gunslinger, the Soldier, and her mother, the Alchemist.

And standing next to them was Dr. Junkenstein and his Monster.

“Spit in my face, don’t you?” Dr. Junkenstein cackled. “I’ll show you what happens when you embarrass a Junkenstein! You’ll pay the price for laughing at me!!”

The mansion was rocked as another artillery shell landed. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Angela stammered. “This can’t be happening!”

“I thought you said you needed some of your magic to make it through the enchanted woods,” Fareeha said. “Something to lead you here, otherwise you’d get turned around.”

“They _do_ have some of my magic,” Angela said, pointing at Junkenstein’s Monster. “His Creation has my magic. That is how it was able to come to life. Because they have that, because they have my magic, and because Junkenstein knows the way, they found us. Oh gods, I _knew_ Junkenstein was vengeful, but I never expected him to go to the king!”

“Why would he do that? The king hates him!”

“Because he wants revenge on me for turning him down, and he apparently wants it more than getting revenge on the king,” Angela said. Another shell hit the mansion; a wall in the ballroom shattered. “He must’ve struck up a deal with the King. Spite is a wonderful thing.”

“Orders?” Reaper said. The pumpkin was still on his head. At first, Fareeha thought it would look ridiculous, but with the deep growl of his voice, he was suddenly back to being the Reaper, not a man damned by his choices. He still found a way to look intimidating.

“We have to protect the mansion,” Angela said. Gunfire and more artillery rocked the mansion, shattering windows and making the doors rattle. “I have to—“

“You have to what?” Fareeha asked.

“I see it now,” Angela gasped.

“What do you mean?”

“I knew I couldn’t run from my fate.”

“What?”

“The Ocular,” Angela said. “It showed me where I would stop being the Witch of the Wilds.”

Fareeha’s stomach dropped out from under her.

“No,” she said. “You can’t mean it.”

“Fareeha, you saw the image with me,” Angela said. “I would be on my knees, in front of the king. Only then would I stop being the Witch of the Wilds.”

“You can’t mean to die here!”

“Fareeha, my fate is sealed. It’s my destiny, I’ll undoubtably die here.”

“No, you can’t! Don’t you dare leave me alone!”

“Fareeha,” Angela said. She reached out and grabbed her hands. “Fareeha, I told you the Ocular isn’t wrong; it can’t be wrong. I thought I had outrun it, but my fate has followed me here. My death is out there, and I have to meet it.”

“No, there has to be a way. We have to make something work. I can talk to them, I can get them to stop. We have to—“

“Fareeha, the king brought his entire army with him,” Angela said. “Every Knight, every Thane, every Shield-Maiden, they’re out there, baying for my blood. I thought I was being fatalistic. I thought I wasn’t being fair to you, saying I would die. Gods, but I was right all along. I have to stop being the Witch of the Wilds.”

“Angela, please, you can’t leave me alone.”

“But I have to,” she said. “Fareeha, this year has been the best year of my life, and I’ve lived a very, very, very long time. I wish it could go on forever, but I have to meet my death. I love you. I love you so hard it hurts. You complete me in ways I thought I lost forever. But this has to happen. I have to meet my end.”

“No! We can fight this. I can go out there, get them to stop—!”

“You’re not listening,” Angela sighed. The mansion rocked with another artillery barrage. “It has to be this way.”

Angela raised her arms, working her magic. Through the windows, Fareeha saw the nearby Omnic statues stir. They broke from their pedestals, and lumbered forward. Angela must be turning all of the Omnic statues into actual weapons. Or maybe they were weapons that were fashioned into statues. Whatever the case, the king and his forces were suddenly staring against Angela and her summoned Omnic army.

“You gave me something to live for,” Angela said. “But this is how it must end.”

Another round of artillery landed home. This barrage broke another part of the wall in the ballroom, only this one sparked a fire.

Angela grabbed Fareeha, and kissed her deeply.

“Remember me,” she said.

“Angela! You can’t go out there!”

With a simple motion, Angela conjured a lengthy bed sheet. Fareeha had seen her do this plenty of times before, namely in the bedroom. But when those times the sheet had been used to bind her wrists or legs, this time the sheet wrapped itself completely around Fareeha, wrapping her up like a mummy.

“The mansion has very strong magic,” Angela said. “I’ll be sending you to the upstairs, with the Oculus and Ocular. The magic there is so powerful, it can’t be destroyed; you’ll be safe there. Once this is all done, and I’m gone, the magic in the sheet would wear off. Please, get somewhere safe after that.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!”

“But you have to,” Angela smiled sadly. “This is the way it has to be.”

“No!”

Fareeha was lifted and pulled up the stairs by Angela’s magic.

“Reaper,” Angela said, “great our guests.”

Reaper, still with the carved pumpkin serving as his head, reached into his coat. He drew two shotguns, and floated towards the door.

“Angela!!” Fareeha’s scream went unanswered as the magic carried her up the stairs. Angela held out her hand, and her broom and hat floated towards her.

She opened the mansion door, and started casting spells.

Fareeha cried and screamed as she was drawn up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [You didn't expect it to be that easy, did you?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d8uCtBL1Ho)


	20. All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War has come to Angela's doorstep.  
> Led by the mad Dr. Junkenstein, King Reinhardt has come to end the threat of the Witch of the Wilds.  
> Angela sees it as her destiny to fight and die. But Fareeha will do anything to save her love.

The magic carried Fareeha up and up, until she was on the fourth floor of the mansion. It carried her down the hallway, until a door opened, and set her gently down on the floor. It was the room that held the Oculus and the Ocular.

Screaming, she thrashed about.

“Angela! Please! You can’t do this!!”

Try as she might, the sheets that bound her were wrapped tight. She knew that it was impossible to get out of those sheets, but she still thrashed about.

“I can’t live without you, I can’t! You can’t leave me alone!”

Fareeha fought against the sheets, but made no headway against the magic. She had to escape, she had to save Angela, she had to do something!

She rolled over on the floor, between the two mirrors. The Oculus was still covered, but the Ocular seemed to be covered in fog.

The Ocular. Angela said it showed you what you want to see. It had to show here how to save Angela.

Fareeha thrashed and rolled over so she was facing the Ocular. As she got closer, the fog spun into focus; she gasped as a face filled the mirror. It was made of smoke and fog, and looked intently at her, like she was a novel puzzle.

“A-are you, are you the Ocular?” Fareeha gasped.

The smoke-face nodded.

“Can you help me?”

The ghostly, undefined face nodded. It was impossible to tell the face’s gender, race, age, or anything. It was simply a face.

“Please, you have to,” Fareeha gasped. “I have to get out of here! I have to get free!”

The fog head shook its head ‘no,’

“No? You have to help me!” Fareeha yelled. “Help me get free!”

The fog head looked on impassively.

“Please! You said you can help me!”

The fog-person shook their ‘no.’ It had to help her! It had to get her out of this! Then she remembered what Angela said about the Ocular.

_When the Ocular became self-aware, it became one persnickety bitch,_ Angela had said. _You have to be extremely specific_.

Specific. Fareeha could do that.

“Angela Ziegler,” she gasped. “She needs my help.”

The ghost face shook its head ‘no’ again.

“The Witch of the Wilds,” Fareeha said. “I need to help her!”

The smoke face shook its head.

“Angela, the only magic user in the world. The Witch, the Witch of the damn Wilds!” Fareeha shouted. “You’re killing her! She thinks she has to die because of you!”

The ghost seemed to startle at that. It cocked its head to the side, as if it was giving her a questioning look.

“Yes, she has your damned prediction! She thinks she has to die! You have to help me!”

The ghost turned its head, like it was thinking. Then it motioned for her to continue. Was it going to help her?

“Please, I have to save Angela,” she pleaded. “She’s going to die! She’s my life, I can’t live without her.”

Suddenly the fog-face nodded. Fareeha paused; was she doing something right?

“I love her,” she said. “I can’t live without her!”

The gaseous face in the Ocular shook its head ‘no.’ One hand made a ‘more’ gesture, like it was a game of charades. She was supposed to say something more. It was helping her!

“She’s my light?” Fareeha said. “My one true love?”

The fog-face shook its head no, but its hands did the ‘more’ gesture.

“The only one for me? The one I’d do anything for?” Fareeha rambled. “My heart?”

The mirror fog person shook its head no. She wasn’t specific enough.

“Please! I can’t live without her!”

The mirror fog person nodded. Its head bobbed up and down, but it still made the ‘more’ gesture. She was close!

“I can’t live without her, I have to save her.”

The head shook ‘no.’

“I have to save her.”

A flatter ‘no.’ It looked like she was getting colder.

“I have to live with her.”

Another ‘no,’ but also a ‘more’ gesture.

“She’s my life?”

The head shook ‘yes,’ but still gestured for more.

“She’s my life,” Fareeha said. “I can’t live without my life.”

The Ocular fog person nodded. She must be getting close, she had to! Then the answer came to her with a moment of clarity.

“She’s my life. Help me save my life.”

The mist person slowly nodded. Suddenly it vanished, and the Ocular slowly drew to focus.

Fareeha was looking at a mirror. She was lying on the ground, bound by the magic cloth, between the mirrors. But the Fareeha in the mirror didn’t mimic her movements; she looked dead at Fareeha.

“Are…are you the Ocular?”

Her mirror-self nodded.

_“Watch me,”_ Mirror Fareeha mouthed.

Bound in the sheet, Mirror Fareeha wiggled towards the Oculus, until she was next to a corner of the mirror. Mirror Fareeha struggled, but was able to push her hand out of the sheet that bound her. That hand grabbed the sheet that covered a corner of the cursed mirror.

_“Be careful,”_ her mirror-self mouthed.

Then she pulled the sheet off one corner of the Oculus.

The enchanted sheet that covered the Oculus stuck to the frame of the mirror, but from the tiny opening, dozens of hands immediately reached out to grab her mirror-self. There had to be nearly a dozen that reached out of the Oculus. Some were massive, some were skeletal, some were even some bizarre chitin-like hands, but all were clawed and looked like they could easily draw blood.

They tried to pull Mirror Fareeha through the tiny opening, into the Oculus, but the sheet kept most of the mirror closed. Mirror Fareeha thrashed, trying to pull free. Just when Fareeha was certain that the Ocular _was_ going to kill her, her mirror-self started to break free. The Oculus hands that grabbed hadn’t actually grabbed her; rather, they grabbed the sheet that bound her. The Ocular hands were doing the work of tearing the sheet for her, and she was able to pull free.

Not that it was easy. Mirror Fareeha was clearly struggling, and some of the hands still reached out to grab her. But as the Oculus’ demon hands grabbed at her, they only were able to find purchase on the sheets, and they pulled them free for her.

Once Mirror Fareeha was free, she scrambled away from the Oculus. The hands tried to reach for her still, but the cloth that covered the mirror sealed itself shut, like a zipper was closing the opening. Mirror Fareeha turned to Fareeha, watching her, waiting for her to follow suit.

Angela told her to never uncover the Oculus, but she had no choice. She wiggled over to the Oculus.

“This better work,” she told her mirror-self.

The reflection nodded back.

Fareeha realized how terrified she was. But she was a Shield-Maiden, and she was doing this for her love. If there was a time to be brave, it was now. She wiggled, and was able to free one hand, pushing it through the tangle of the sheet. Then she lifted the cloth of the corner of the Oculus.

Just as the Ocular showed her, hands shot out to grab her. But it never gave her a warning on how cold they would be. Fareeha yelled as the hands grabbed her. They were strong, stronger than any human could be, and they were painfully cold, so cold that she was instantly chilled to the bone. For a terrifying second, they dragged her back to the Oculus.

Fareeha thrashed and rolled about, trying to break free. More hands pulled themselves out, grabbing her about the shoulders, the back, her arms, even her legs. But they grabbed the sheet that was wrapped around her, not Fareeha herself.

As she struggled, the sheet began to slowly tear, to slowly give way. It made her fight ever more, pulling herself free. With a great rip, her arms were free. She grabbed and pawed at the ground, trying to pull herself away from the Oculus. The cursed hands pulled at the sheet, trying to drag her back to whatever hell they came from.

The sheet ripped more, and one leg came free. Fareeha kicked at the hands, and at the sheet that was still wrapped around her leg. More arms reached out to grab her leg, but they only got a handful of the sheet.

With one final tear, the sheet finally came free, and she rolled away from the clutches of the Oculus. The hands dragged the sheet back into the mirror, and the sheet that covered the Oculus came down, sealing the mirror away. It stuck to the edges of the mirror, but suddenly hands reached out from the Oculus, trying to reach out and grab anything.

It made for a ghastly image, the hands pressing against the magical sheet. Said sheet was sealed taunt against the wood of the Oculus, barely keeping the hands at bay. They pushed and grabbed at something beyond the sheet, but the enchanted cloth held steady. Eventually, the hands stopped.

Fareeha collapsed, staring at the ceiling. Her struggle against the Oculus was shockingly difficult. But she was free, free to save Angela.

A knocking sound called her back. She rolled over, and saw that her Mirror Self in the Ocular was rapping at the mirror.

_“This way,”_ Mirror Fareeha mouthed.

She walked towards the door. The Ocular panned like there was a camera that was following her. Her mirror-self opened the door, crawling on the ground to avoid the billowing black smoke that poured into the room. The Ocular followed her as she crawled down the hall, towards the door that held the endless hallway. Mirror Fareeha opened the door, revealing the stark white corridor.

_“Find your love, find your life,”_ she mouthed at Fareeha. Then she entered the endless hallway, and closed the door. The image dissolved into smoke, and the strange fog-face of the Ocular returned.

“Thank you,” Fareeha gasped. “Thank you so much.”

The fog-face nodded, then disappeared into nothing.

She was free. And Angela had to be saved. Fareeha didn’t know how she was going to do that, but she had to do something. It was better than nothing.

She went to the door, and opened it. Thick, black smoke immediately billowed into the room, making her cough; she had opened the door standing up, not kneeling down.

Dropping to her knees, Fareeha crawled her way forward. Even though there was some clean air close to the ground, it was still smoky as hell. She coughed as she crawled forward, her eyes stinging.

The heat rose; Fareeha realized she was heading towards the stairs, the wrong way. But she couldn’t help herself, she had to at least see if she could take the stairs. But when she reached the stairs, she stopped.

The stairs were alight, burning from the numerous fires that were caused by the artillery bombardment. But she had a clear line of sight to the ballroom, and with the destroyed walls, she could see the battle unfolding outside.

The Omnics under Angela’s control were forming a thick perimeter. Many shield-generating Omnics were at the front lines, namely OR-14s with Bastion models behind them. She knew how formidable the Omnics were; with their number, they were an army that could topple a kingdom.

But King Reinhardt’s forces had caught Angela off-guard. Instead of being a threat, the Omnics were trying to close rank, trying to protect themselves, Reaper, and Angela. They began the fight on their back foot, and the situation wasn’t improving.

Meanwhile, the realm’s forces were controlling the battlefield. Knights were pressing their advantage, moving up on the Omnics. They were armed with shield-generating Crusader armor, much like the King’s own, forming a shimmering bulwark as they moved in, corralling Angela and her Omnic army. The Viking’s turrets and sentries were unleashing a hail of fire, to say nothing of the Thanes and Shield-Maidens that harried them. Fareeha saw Hana in the thick of the battle, next to Zarya in her giant MEKA armor.

Just as they said, Hana was working with Zarya. Fareeha never thought she’d see the day.

Reaper was there to stop them, but even he was held back. Angela was behind many layers of shields her Omnics put up, but Fareeha could see that she was driven to exhaustion. Her magic was animating the Omnics, and it was clearly being strained.

_My magic_ is _strong,_ Angela had said, _but I’m only one person. Your army? Any army? You are legion. Quantity is a quality all its own. I was hoping that there would be one lucking bastard who’d be able to put me down._

Against the prepared might of the realm, Angela and her forces were being pushed back, towards the rear of the mansion. Fareeha had to move fast, otherwise Angela was going to find that one lucky bastard who was able to put her down.

Crawling, Fareeha made her way back down the hall. Her eyes were watering from the smoke, her lungs felt like they were going to dry up and turn to dust. But finally, she made it to the door that held the endless hallway. Fareeha opened it, and practically rolled into the white corridor. The air there was fresh, untouched by the fire. Once through, she kicked it closed.

Fareeha took a minute to lay on her back, coughing and catching her breath. According to Angela, she was between the worlds, but that didn’t help her know where the hell she was. Once her eyes stopped stinging and she could draw a full breath, Fareeha sat up.

Her heart skipped a few beats. The door she walked through wasn’t there.

She was sitting in the middle of the hallway, with no way to leave the way she came in. Panicking, she looked around. The hallway was endless, in both directions. There were a few doors in either directions, but it was hard to tell how far away they were.

She could hear what Angela told her when she was first shown the hallway.

_If you know where you want to go, you’ll get there. But you have to be very specific. With an infinite number of worlds, it’s too easy to get lost._

How was she supposed to find Angela?

Fareeha took a few deep breaths to calm her hammering heart. She had to think of what the Ocular told her; it was never wrong.

_Find your love, find your life._

“My love. My life…it’s my destiny to love her,” she said to herself. “She’s the Witch of the Wilds; magic? Great magic, and destiny?”

Yes, it was easy to see her life with Angela, the Witch of the Wilds, being her destiny. She pictured it in her mind, spending her days with her, and began running. Eventually, she came upon a door, and quickly opened it.

The looming hallway of an ancient castle opened up to her, making her stop. A castle? Angela only had a mansion. Where was she?

Voices floated down the hall. They spoke the same language, but was accented. She peered around, and saw a group of children.

All the children wore robes, like they were some kind of wizards and witches in training. They couldn’t be older than fifteen. Was this castle a school of some kind? Then she realized that there were paintings on the wall; paintings that moved. She saw ornately dressed men and women turning in the picture frames, looking at her, pointing at her, muttering about her.

One of the children, a boy in the group, heard the commotion, and turned around. He wore glasses, had a wand in his hand, and what looked like a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

“Sorry,” Fareeha mumbled, “wrong door.”

She quickly closed it. She had to try again.

“My love, my life,” she said, standing up. “My life. Angela Ziegler, The Witch of the Wilds. She’s fighting for her life.” An idea hit her. “A battle. A great battle, with magic.”

With the image in her mind, she started running again. Fareeha hoped she was heading the right direction.

It was impossible to tell how long she was running, but soon, she was able to make her way to a door. Gasping for breath, Fareeha pulled it open.

Wind hit her face. The air was pure, so damn pure and clean, it was like she had entered another world. She took a half-step out of the door, and stopped dead in her tracks.

She had indeed walked into another world. The door she opened was set into a rocky crag. She was overlooking a massive field, with two armies set against each other. One army was smaller, and seemed to be made of several different factions. Some wore mismatching armor, others were covered with gleaming plates. Some were tall, graceful, beautiful men, while others were short, squat, and hairy men. Others just seemed to be men. Against them was a massive army of dark-armored figures, the very picture of a vicious horde.

And looming in the distance was a massive, black tower. On the top of that malefic tower was a great eye, lidless, and wreathed in flame. Just looking at the eye made her quake in her shoes.

Than the great eye turned to her, piercing her flesh, glaring into her very soul.

Fareeha closed the door. This wasn’t her battle.

“My life, my love, a battle, magic,” she chanted, running down the hall. “Magic, battle, good versus evil? An epic clash?”

The battle between Angela and King Reinhardt would be the stuff of legends. Maybe if she thought about that, she would find the right door.

With that image in mind, she continued to run down the hallway. Soon, she came upon another door. When she opened it, she had to do a double-take.

She was in a massive, metal room. Was…was she in space? She could see a planet in the distance, behind a massive window pane. The room she was in was dark, bathed in shadows. Flashes of light flashed in the distance, like there was a war in the stars.

There was a sound of electricity, drawing Fareeha’s attention. There were two figures, one massive, the other smaller. Both the figures wore black, but the taller one had a black cape. Each of the figures held swords, like they were made from glowing lasers.

The massive figure with the cloak held a glowing red laser sword, while the smaller figure held a green laser sword. They attacked each other, and every time their laser swords met, they clashed like two livewires touching.

Fareeha closed the door. This still wasn’t her battle.

“A battle,” she said as she ran, “between good and evil. My life at stake.”

Another door came up. She threw it open.

A massive explosion landed somewhere near her, and the pressure wave nearly knocked her off her feet. Shaking her head, she looked up.

She was in the middle of a blasted battlefield. There were ruined buildings as far as the eye could see. For all those buildings to have been destroyed, there must be only war. In between the ruined buildings, two figures charged each other.

Both figures were of superhuman height. One wore thick plated blue armor with an upside-down Omega symbol on his massive pauldrons. The other superhuman wore black armor, with an eight-pointed star on his. Each held a weapon that seemed to be equal parts chainsaw and sword. The chain swords growled as they spun up, the whirling teeth meeting and clashing with each other. The massive figures bellowed rage as they met, invoking their emperor or god, sweeping their blades about so fast, it was a blue to Fareeha.

She slammed the door closed. Dammit, she wasn’t getting anywhere.

“I have to find my life,” she said. “The Ocular said, ‘find my love, find my life.’ I have to find Angela.”

But looking for Angela got her nowhere. Was she overthinking things…? What if she just did what the Ocular told her?

“My love,” she said to the hallway. “I have to find my love, I have to find my life.”

She started running.

“Find my love, find my life,” she said, singing as she ran. “Find my love, find my life.”

It became a cadence. She would breathe in, ‘find my love.’ She exhaled, ‘find my life.’

Fareeha was running for some time, but eventually, she came upon another door. But this door had smoke leaking from it.

The mansion was on fire; could this be it?

She grabbed the door handle, and nearly burned herself. The handle was hot, too damn hot. She wrapped her hand in her shirt, and pushed the door open, or opened as much as she could. There was a massive wooden beam that blocked the door from opening, but she had enough space to stick her head out.

Fareeha was in a barn; it was Angela’s barn. She could hear cows and horses baying out in fear as the battle moved to them. Many of them had broken from their stalls, making a run to the safety of the forest. She saw Angela’s mansion in the distance, with the last of the Omnics in the fields of the small farm. 

She found the place she was supposed to be. The Ocular was right!

But things were desperate. The farm and the mansion were on fire, and there were only a handful of Omnics left. The Omnics provided a barrier between Angela and the forces of the King, but they were falling apart. Fareeha saw Hana’s MEKA at the forefront of the battle, taking shots left and right. At the last second, it boosted forward, gently ejecting Hana.

The MEKA began flashing, and landed in the midst of the Omnics. It self-detonated, taking out the last remaining OR-14s and Bastions. The only ones left were Angela and Reaper.

Reaper ran forward, unleashing his shotguns, charging at Junkenstein’s Monster. But the combined might of the King’s forces and the Monster slowed him. He was taking shots, mortal wounds that even his undead body couldn’t handle. Reaper fell to his knees, and Fareeha was shocked to see the Soldier walk up to him.

Jack kicked Reaper down, and unloaded his rifle into Reaper’s chest, point blank. It was a kill.

Angela sat on her broom, flying overhead and bleeding from dozens of cuts, trying to revive the Omnics that had just fallen. But a shot rang out, and Angela fell from her broom. Fareeha screamed, pounding at the blocked door.

“Help! Someone, help!”

Angela hit the ground, and the King’s forces gave a cheer. The Witch had fallen, and there was no one else to fight. The battle was over. That meant that Angela was going to die.

“Please!” She pounded on the door with all her might, trying to move it. But the wooden beam that blocked her way gave no quarter. “Someone! Help!!”

Fareeha yelled and screamed. She howled and begged when she saw a host of soldiers converge on Angela, picking her up and tearing at her clothes.

And when she saw a stake being raised and stocked with wood, she yelled even louder. That was the stake that Angela would be burned at.

She was so close! She was right there! Angela!

“Fareeha?!”

A massive, pink haired woman appeared in front of the door.

“Fareeha, is that you?” Zarya gasped.

“Let me out!” Fareeha yelled. “Please! Let me out!”

“Hold on, sister, I’ll free you,” Zarya said. She set her particle cannon down. “The Witch had you locked up in the barn?”

“Let me out! You have to!”

“I will, I will.” Zarya set her feet, and pushed against the wooden beam. She grunted, and the beam was lifted, far enough to let her out. Fareeha slipped through the tiny opening, and Zarya let the beam fall back into place.

“Where have you been?” Zarya asked, taking Fareeha by the shoulder.

Fareeha brushed off Zarya, and ran through the ruined barn.

“Fareeha! What’s going on?”

The soldiers were gathering in a circle, singing songs of praise and victory. Fareeha pushed her way through the crowd. She could hear the King speaking.

“Witch,” he said, his massive voice filling the clearing, “we have finally come for you. I have told you that we would find a way.”

“You told me that years ago,” Angela said. “I know my fate. Spare me the gloating and get on with it.”

“You heard her!” It was Dr. Junkenstein, cheering at the victory. “Light up the barby, boys! How do you like your Witch? Burned to a crisp or charred as hell?! How do you like laughing at me now??”

She had to move faster! Why wouldn’t anyone get out of her way?! She was shoving men and woman aside left and right.

“Please don’t monologue,” Angela sighed. “It’s unbecoming.”

“If you insist,” King Reinhardt chuckled. “Witch, you stand before us having committed a multitude of crimes. You have attacked us and terrorized us for too long. As the ruler of the realm, I sentence you to burn at the stake until you are dead.”

Fareeha finally pushed her way through the crowd. In front of her, there was a small clearing, a space where the Knights and Maidens gave way to the King. Angela was lying on the ground, clutching her shoulder. Blood dripped to the ground, where she was clearly shot. Someone had taken a sword to her hair; it was cut short, almost to the scalp.

King Reinhardt stood over her, war hammer in hand. Next to him were the Fabled Four, namely her mother and Jack, as well as Dr. Junkenstein and his Monster. Behind King Reinhardt was a stake where she would be burned at.

“No!”

Everyone looked up in shock.

“Fareeha?!” Her mother gasped.

“Fareeha?!” Angela shouted.

She was running at top speed. Fareeha slid in front of Angela, placing her back against her love as if she was going to take the injury for her, with herself glaring up at her king.

“If you want to kill her,” Fareeha snarled, “you’ll have to kill me first.”


	21. All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha might have freed herself and found her life, but now she needs to fight for her love.

The mansion’s farm were burning, darkening the air with black soot. The animals ran amuck, driven by fear. But hearing Fareeha defend the Witch with her own life made everything stand still.

“What?” The King demanded.

“If you want to kill the Witch,” Fareeha said, “you’ll have to kill me first.”

Fareeha was lying with her back pressed against Angela’s chest, protecting her from the King’s wrath. Angela tried pushing her away.

“This is my fate,” she said. “Give me this!”

“You don’t get a say in this!” Fareeha said. “You’re my life. And I’m saving my life.”

“Did I miss something here?” Junkenstein asked.

“What madness is this?” The King spat. “Fareeha, you are a Shield-Maiden, a model soldier! I order you: stand up and surrender the Witch!”

‘A model soldier.’ Fareeha couldn’t help but think of Reaper.

_Don’t be like me. Don’t be a model soldier,_ he said. _A model soldier always obeys, just like a slave. Never blindly bend the knee, always do what_ you _want, what_ you _think is best. I wanted to be a good soldier, a model soldier, and look what it got me. I’m the best, but I can’t do anything for myself. I can barely think for myself._

“No,” she said with finality.

Everyone gasped, most notably her mother. No one denied a king, let alone a mere Shield-Maiden.

“What did you say?” King Reinhardt demanded.

“I said ‘no,’” Fareeha said. Angela grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it hard. “I won’t surrender her.”

“I gave you an order, Maiden,” Reinhardt spat. “Give up the Witch!”

_Don’t be a model soldier._

“No.”

“Ooh, we got some juicy drama here,” Junkenstein laughed.

“Fareeha,” Angela said, “you must.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Fareeha, she took you from me,” her mother said. “She made the king give you up! She’s turning you against us!”

“She isn’t.”

“She’s brainwashing you! Please, can’t you see that?”

“My mind is my own!”

“Her mind _is_ her own,” Angela said. “I’ve done nothing to turn her against you, or to stand with me. In fact, I’d like it if she actually gave me up, and left me to my fate.”

Angela was glaring at her as she said it, but Fareeha ignored her.

“Lies,” King Reinhardt said. “You took her from us, and you’re undoubtedly using her against us, trying to turn us upon one another!”

That made Angela laugh.

“I never wanted her,” she said.

“What do you mean?” The Alchemist spat, turning her wrath on Angela. “You said you would spare the realm if you had my daughter!”

“And I gave you what you demanded,” the King said.

“What I gave you was an impossible task,” Angela said. “I never wanted Fareeha. I didn’t want your daughter, I wanted the battle, I wanted to die. So I gave you a task that no king in his right mind would take: sacrifice a thane to me.”

“Come on, come on, come on!” Junkenstein yelled. “The Witch said she wanted to die, so let’s help her out! And if we have to kill the Witch, we’ll have to take this bird out, too! Plenty of fuel for the both of ‘em.”

“Stay your damned hand,” Reinhardt said. “You may have helped us find the Witch’s mansion, but you will not kill my Shield-Maiden.”

“Why not? She said she’d die first.”

Fareeha couldn’t see what was happening behind her, but she heart Knights and Shield-Maidens shifting behind her.

“You lie, Witch,” her mother said. “You’re turning my daughter against me!”

“Then let me clear the air.” She held her hand up. “May the Old Gods bear witness to this claim. If I should break this oath by lying, may they tear my soul asunder and damn me to the darkest pits of the abyss: I have not done anything to sway your daughter’s mind. I have done nothing to force my will upon her, to cloud her mind, or otherwise lead her astray. This is her decision, and hers alone.”

That gave everyone pause, even Junkenstein. Making an oath to the Old Gods was the most ironclad vow one could take. Invoking the Old Gods was done when requesting guest rights, or swearing oaths of fealty.

“You…you swear an oath to the Old Gods, that you’re telling the truth?” The Alchemist asked, stunned to hear her conviction.

“I am.”

“Then…you…you’re not trying to brainwash her?”

“I never have, and I will never wish such a fate even upon my worst enemy.”

“But you took her from me!” The Alchemist said. “You _wanted_ to take my daughter from me!”

“And I never expected the king to do it,” Angela said.

“Liar!”

“Then let me raise the stakes,” she said. “I swear upon the soul of my mother, Sonya Ziegler, I never wanted to tear your daughter away from you.”

Officially, there was no oath higher than swearing upon the Old Gods. Unofficially, one did not bet with the soul of their mother on just anything.

“You have a mother?” Ana gasped.

“We all have mothers.”

“Then you gamble with your mother’s soul?” Fareeha’s mother demanded. “You’ll send her soul to the dark abyss for eternal torture if you’re lying?”

“I’m not damning her soul because I’m telling the truth,” Angela said. “I never wanted your daughter. Your King wanted a pact, so I gave him a pact; an impossible pact, a _soulless_ pact, one so horrible that he would _have_ to battle me. I never expected him to actually give Fareeha to me.”

“Lies, as always,” the King spat. “You’ll do anything to save your—“

_“I knew it!”_ Ana yelled. She turned her rifle upon the King. Junkenstein yelped and jumped away from the enraged mother. “I knew I should never have given my daughter away! I knew I should never have trusted you! You’re the one who took her away from me!!”

Many a soldier gasped. No one threatened a King!

“You dare turn your weapon against your king?” Reinhardt spat.

“I’m turning my weapon on the man who sold my daughter to slavery!”

“You will forsake every oath you ever took?”

“I should have put my daughter above any oath I swore to you,” her mother spat. “You gave her up to the Witch for no good reason, sold her as if she was nothing but a cow! You have broken _your_ oath to protect us!”

“Put your weapon down, or I will treat you as a traitor,” the King said. “And I will not suffer a traitor to live.”

“That’s my wife you’re threatening,” the Soldier snarled. He stood tall next to his beloved, ready to fight the King himself.

“Ooh, more juicy drama,” Junkenstein laughed. He slapped the Monster’s side. “Whatd’a think a this, Mako?”

The Archer held his bow at the ready, looking between Ana and Reinhardt, trying to decide whom to back. The Gunslinger gently pushed his bow down.

“This ain’t our fight,” he said. “Let’s let the family thing work itself out.”

“You turn your back against your vows as well?!” Reinhardt demanded, looming over the Soldier.

“I swore a vow to love to protect my wife, to love and protect her child as if she were my own flesh and blood,” Jack said. “And that vow means standing against my king. Sir.”

Fareeha could hear the Knights of the realm readying their weapons. Two veterans had just threatened their king; even if they were half of the Fabled Four, such a threat could not be taken lightly.

“Ana, Fareeha, Jack,” Reinhardt said, “I am your king. Stand down, all of you.”

“Never,” Fareeha said.

“And I will never forgive you for taking my daughter from me,” Ana said.

“I stand with my wife.”

“Then you’re all traitors,” Reinhardt yelled. “You are no thanes of mine! I revoke all titles given to you! You’re as bad as the Witch; you’re even in league with her. My Knights, my Shield-Maidens, to arms! Strike down these traitors.”

“Hahaha! This is beautiful!” Junkenstein laughed. “Just look at all this havoc! I love it!”

Weapons were readied. Fareeha grabbed Angela’s hand, and held it tight to her. She would die for her life, here and now.

Suddenly, a shadow stepped in front of her.

“Those are my sisters you’re threatening!” Zarya said.

Fareeha blinked as her pink-haired friend stood before them, staring the King down, particle cannon at the ready.

“’Your sisters?’” King Reinhardt sputtered. “They’re no longer your sisters, they are traitors!”

“Once a Maiden,” Zarya yelled, “ _always_ a Maiden! And a threat against one is a threat against us all. Maidens, our sisters are threatened! Let us stand together and protect them!”

Hana pushed her way through the crowd, standing with her sister. She was without her MEKA, only wearing a form-fitting pilot suit, but she held a pistol in her hands, and had a look of determination that made Zarya proud.

“Dammit, Zarya, you better be right ‘bout this,” Lena said, joining Hana in forming a line between Fareeha and the King.

More and more Shield-Maidens joined. Fareeha looked behind her; soon, every Shield-Maiden was with them, standing to protect their own. They stood against the King, squaring off with the Knights and Thanes of the realm.

Everyone was getting nervous, even the mad doctor. He stood in the crossfire with his Monster.

King Reinhardt stared at the assembled force. He was shocked that his Shield-Maidens would dare stand against him.

“You forsake your oaths?” He sputtered. “You stand with the Witch?”

“I stand with my sisters,” Zarya said. “Now and forever.”

“She stand with the Witch!” He yelled, pointing at Fareeha.

“And the Witch swore a sacred oath to the Old Gods that we hold dear,” Hana said. “She swore that she’d never try to brainwash Fareeha. She swore that she never wanted to tear her away from us. Those are oaths that are to never be broken; she _can’t_ be lying. That means you took our sister from us last year, sold her away like she was a slave; we should’ve stood up to you then!”

Reinhardt was clearly thrown for a loop. Many of the soldiers that stood with him were similarly confused.

“How could you side with her?” He stammered.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Zarya said. “I don’t know why Fareeha defends the Witch, but she is my sister. I have fought with her, bleed with her, and I will gladly die for her, because she would do the same for me.”

“Zarya,” Fareeha said, “if we get out of this alive, you’ve got a free pass for life.”

“A free pass for what?” Zarya chuckled.

“Damn near everything!”

“How can you turn on your king?” Reinhardt sputtered. “We are battling the Witch of the Wilds!”

“And you threaten two of our sisters,” Hana said.

“They have sided against us!”

“They haven’t,” Lena said. “Remember, you gave Fareeha away. We didn’t like it that you sold our sister.”

“I never sold her!”

“Oh yes you did: you gave her to me,” Angela said. “And I never wanted her. You asked for a pact, so I gave you a pact with a soulless alternative. You weren’t supposed to give her up.”

“You lie!”

“I’ve already sworn an oath to the Old Gods; even I bow to their will. I would never dream of breaking it by lying.”

King Reinhardt’s eyes darted around, trying to understand what was happening. Not even Fareeha knew how things got here. One minute, they were going to kill Angela. Now, the Shield-Maidens were ready to revolt.

“I…” The King’s shoulders collapsed. “Was it a test? That pact, where I gave Fareeha away, did I…did I fail that test?”

“It wasn’t a test, but you weren’t supposed to keep your end of the bargain,” Angela said. “The only winning move was to not play. But you played it.”

“Gods,” he gasped.

Realization dawned on King Reinhardt. He dropped his war hammer. The reality of his actions was too much. He looked out at the soldiers who were with him. The Maidens who stood with Zarya glared at him with open hate for having sold a sister. Many of the Knights were trading questioning looks. Was this the king they had sworn an oath to? Was this the king that would trade any of them for the kingdom? Were they the next ones to be sold away like a slave?

Fareeha knew there was only one thing the King could do to stop a revolt. Fortunately, he did exactly what she thought he’d do.

“Ana, Fareeha, Jack,” he said. “I was wrong. I should not have called you traitors; _I_ was the one to blame. You have spotted a flaw in me, and held me accountable. You should not be punished for speaking the truth. I pardon you of any crimes I have laid at your feet, and restore your titles.”

The mood relaxed. The gathered Maidens heaved sighs of relief, along with the Knights. It looked like a civil war was averted.

“Aw, come on,” Junkenstein yelled. “I was hoping for some death here!”

“Be quiet, Doctor,” Reinhardt said. “You have done us a great service leading us through the enchanted woods, but things have changed. You will not spill the blood of my thanes.”

“Then give me that damn Witch!” He demanded. “She spat in my face! Well, guess who’s laughing now? I’ll cut you up and make you my next Creation!”

Fareeha set herself between her and the Monster. Against the Monster, she couldn’t do anything. But she had to protect Angela.

The Maidens readied their weapons to fight the Monster, but the large undead corpse never moved.

“Mako! Attack them!” Junkenstein yelled.

“He’ll do no such thing,” Angela said. She held her hand up; the Monster was obeying her command, not Junkenstein’s.

“I made him! He’s _my_ Creation! He’ll do what I want!”

“No, he’ll do what his master orders,” she said. “You gave him life, yes, but who gave you the gift of life? Who told you what to do? Your Creation is alive because of me; that makes _me_ his master. He’ll obey his master; he’ll obey me. And I’m ordering him to walk away.”

The Monster grunted, turned, and began lumbering away. Dr. Junkenstein was suddenly very alone.

“If you want my opinion,” Angela said, “I’d leave with your Creation. You’ll be safer by him.”

Dr. Junkenstein was gritting his teeth so hard, Fareeha was sure a few would snap.

“I’ll get you one day,” he swore. “No one spits in my face! No one!!”

“You say that a lot,” Lena laughed. “Tough talk from you doesn’t mean much.”

Yelling and screaming, Junkenstein hobbled after his Creation.

“Thank you,” Fareeha said. “I thought that Monster would turn us to paste.”

“Not while I’m the master,” she laughed.

“Witch,” Reinhardt said, “my…my thanks. For dealing with that madman.”

He turned his attention to Fareeha.

“Fareeha Amari. I…I have broken a most sacred vow. I have wronged you in the worst possible way.

“When you swore an oath to be a Shield-Maiden, you swore to protect the realm and your king to your dying breath. But I took an oath as well: one to protect my subjects. I swore to never use you as a pawn, to sacrifice your to a grander game, to be traded and thrown away without care. Your life is mine, yes, but I must protect the ones who protect me, I must treat your life as if it were my own.

“And I’ve fail you. I broke that oath when I gave you to the Witch of the Wilds. I should never have done that. You have my deepest apologies. I cannot go back in time to correct that mistake, but…no, can I? Witch, is such a thing possible? Can I be sent back in time to stop myself?”

“You broke one pact, so you want to fix it by making another?” Angela said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think we’re learning much here.”

“I swore an oath to protect my subjects, and I want to keep that oath. I want to protect Fareeha from _myself_. Can you send me back to stop myself from failing your test?”

“That would require powerful magic,” Angela said, “and a _very_ high price to pay.”

“Name it, I shall pay it. I need to save my subjects from my own damned short-sightedness.”

Go back, and undo the year? And give up Angela, give up the dream they shared together?

“No, don’t,” Fareeha said. “I wouldn’t trade this year for anything!”

“Witch, anything you want, it is yours,” the King said.

“And I told you about the price: _It. Is. Very. High_.” It was clear that this was another test, and the king could only pass it by not accepting it.

Reinhardt realized this, too, and visibly deflated.

“Yes, you’re right,” he mumbled. “Making a pact to make up for breaking another. That is no way to keep a promise.”

“Besides, even if you could pay it, I would refuse,” Angela said. “Like Fareeha, I wouldn’t trade this year for anything in the world.”

Fareeha saw her mother stare at her. Her face was awash with emotions: Fareeha saw hate, disgust, and confusion, to name a few. She wanted to tell her about Angela, but certainly not like this.

“Then I have truly failed you,” Reinhardt said. “Fareeha…Gods, I am so sorry. The oath I broke is one that could never be repaired. But I want to show you that I am worthy of your faith and trust. Please, give me a chance to make a new beginning with us, between a Shield-Maiden and her King. I will grant any wish you have, so long as it is within my power to grant, and is within reason.

“It is not supposed to be a bribe, or a perfect solution to the way I treated you, but I want it to be a new beginning, a new oath, a new covenant, one built on mutual trust.”

A wish, granted by the king? She could have anything. She could get her old position as captain of the guard back. She could even get her own mansion.

“It is a big wish, and it will take you time to know what to ask for,” the King said, “but once you know what it is, you have but to ask.”

Then an idea flitted into her head.

“I know what I want,” she said.

“Name it.”

“It’s a two-parter.” Fareeha couldn’t help but grin.

King Reinhardt glared at her. She was pushing the envelope, but if there was a time to push it, it was now.

“Are they related to each other?”

“Oh, yes they are.”

“If they’re related…then very well,” he said through clenched teeth. “You may have your two-part wish.”

“Thank you,” she said. Now that Angela wasn’t in danger, she stood up, and helped Angela up as well. She was drawing stares from the Knights and Maidens; she could hear the whispers. Why was she holding hands with the Witch?

“For the first part of my wish, I want you to pardon the Witch of the Wilds,” she demanded.

“What?!”

“We have blamed her for every ill, every trial and tribulation, every hardship we ever had. Every problem we ever had, every set back, it was laid at her feet. Some for good reason, but others were not caused by her. She’s the boogeyman, the one we blame for everything, even if it isn’t her fault,” Fareeha said. “I want there to be a new beginning for _everyone,_ even her! If we keep resenting each other, we’ll be making a new war in the future. I want to end that.”

Now the chatter was erupting in the ranks. Shield-Maidens traded looks of disbelief. Even the stoic Zarya was dumbfounded.

“'New beginnings,'” the king snorted. He sighed, and spoke through clenched teeth. “I wanted a new beginning between you and I, as King and Maiden…but if it is your wish to include the Witch of the Wilds, I…” Reinhardt had to pause before forcing the words out. “I will grant her a pardon as well.”

Fareeha had to fight to keep her grin hidden. Everyone else, meanwhile, was taking the news with less grace than the king.

“Fareeha, how could you?” the Alchemist said. “She’s the Witch! She’s the enemy of the realm!”

“If we treat her as an enemy, we’ll get an enemy,” she said. “I want to treat her as a friend, so we can gain a friend.”

“She does have a point,” Jack grudgingly said.

“You agree with her?!”

“No, but I see where she’s coming from.”

“You might see the method to her madness, Soldier, but I do not,” King Reinhardt said. “Still, I had promised you a wish, and I have granted it.”

“The first part of it,” Fareeha said, holding up a finger. “I still have one last thing to add.”

“And it is related?”

“Of course,” she said. “I want there to be new beginnings. And to do that, we can’t live apart from each other. The Witch became feared because she lives so far away from us; she’s out of sight, and quickly becomes out of mind. I want to change that, so we can be true neighbors and not resent each other.

“For the second part of my wish, I want the Witch to be able to live in the realm with us.”

“What?” Reinhardt spat. “Unacceptable!”

“You said you would grant me a wish, and this is what I wish for,” Fareeha pressed.

“And I said ‘within reason,’” Reinhardt snarled. “Do you remember what made the Witch our enemy? Pacts! Pacts with those who’d wish us harm! Before, we had the defenses of the enchanted woods; not everyone with a grudge could find her.

“But if we let her live amongst us, anyone willing to pay a price can have access to her magic! Chaos and anarchy will come of this, I cannot allow it!”

Fareeha glared at the king. He had a point, but she wanted to be with Angela, to have a new start with her. And this was the best way. The only way.

Suddenly, Angela started laughing.

“I get it,” she laughed. “I finally get it!”

“What do you get? Fareeha asked.

“The Ocular. Oh, for all these years, how could I be so blind? I asked it when I would stop being the Witch of the Wilds, not when I would die; it was my _assumption_ that I would fall here, but it’s not my fate!”

She turned to the King.

“What if I no longer had my magic? What if I gave it away, became a mortal human again?”

“You can give your magic away?”

“The Witch of the Wilds is much like a King: it is a position, a rank, an office of power,” she said. “And like how royalty can abdicate the throne, I can surrender my magic. Will you let me live among you if I have no magic?”

“Then there will not be a Witch of the Wilds?”

“There must always be a Witch of the Wilds,” she said. “It just won’t be me.”

“Who will succeed you?”

“That I don’t know. The magic will pick my successor; she will be a strong willed woman, curious, and intelligent. Other than that, it is up to the magic itself.”

“We will be trading a Witch we know for a Witch we won’t know!”

“That isn’t the question,” Angela grinned. “The question is, will you let me into the realm if I am not the Witch? I won’t have the power to make pacts. In your words, I won’t be a danger to others.”

Reinhardt glared at her. Angela held her ground, a coy smile on her lips.

“If you are no longer the Witch,” he said, gnashing his teeth, “you’ll be allowed in the realm. Assuming you won’t be able to make pacts.”

“Once I surrender my magic, I won’t even be able to use my broom,” she said. “But if you’ll allow me a moment of vanity, there’s one last thing I want to do.”

Angela waved her hand, casting a spell over herself. Her cuts and bruises healed, along with the gunshot wound in her shoulder, although she was still covered in dried blood. She let go of Fareeha’s hand, and walked towards the King. She held her hand up, and her broom floated to her.

She knelt down before him, and Fareeha was suddenly struck by the image. It was just as it was predicted in the Ocular; Angela, covered in blood from her wounds, hair cut short, cloths in tatters, surrounded by the burning fields and ruined mansion, she prostrated herself before the King who was girded for war.

This was the moment she would no longer be the Witch of the Wilds.

“In the eyes of the Gods, Old and New, bear witness to me,” Angela said. “My time has come to an end, this blessing has become a burden, and must be passed on. I am your master no more; find another worthy of the cause. Let the Wilds choose another Witch.”

As she spoke, a light grew from her chest. It enveloped her in a ball of white light, making everyone raise their weapons.

But the ball of light left Angela. It rose up from her hands, along with her broom. Both the broom, and the light, rose in the sky.

“Find your next vessel,” she said. “I have been yours long enough.”

The broom and the light continued to rise, then gently flew around the field. Weapons were trained on it, until it came to a stop.

“What is that?” Ana demanded.

“That is the magic that made me the Witch,” Angela said. “It is choosing the next woman to bear it.”

The broom dipped down into the crowd of Shield-Maidens. They jumped aside, but the broom circled one person.

“Hey,” Hana shouted. “Stop it!”

The broom spun around her like a puppy welcoming its master. Hana yelped as she was lifted from the ground, into the ball of white light, the broom dancing around her all the while.

“Little sister!” Zarya said.

“Don’t touch her,” Angela said. “The magic has made its choice.”

Hana spun in the air, surrounded by the light. The ball grew in luminosity, until it was a second sun, turning the night into day, blinding everyone. Fareeha looked away, until the light had died down.

Hana still floated in the air, but was slowly set down in front of Angela.

“What is your name?”

“H-Hana Song.”

“Hana Song, the magic has chosen you,” Angela smiled. “You are the new Witch of the Wilds.”


	22. All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much has changed this evening.
> 
> Fareeha had started by celebrating All Hallows’ Eve with Angela, saw the realm bring war to her doorstep, conversed with the Ocular and used the Oculus, walked down the endless hallway and saw several worlds, defended Angela's life with her own, was cast out by the king, was nearly the cause of a civil war, received a full royal pardon as well as a wish by the King, and just saw Angela surrender her position as Witch of the Wilds, only to see her friend and battle-sister Hana elevated to the position.
> 
> Much has changed this evening. And not everyone can accept that change. 

“I…I’m a Witch?” Hana gasped. “I’m _the_ Witch of the Wilds?”

“Yes,” Angela smiled, “you are. The magic looked into you, and saw what it needed: a smart, intelligent, strong-willed woman. You are the perfect vessel for this office; this is now your duty.”

“Our little sister,” Zarya gasped, “is a Witch?”

King Reinhardt broke out laughing.

“Ha ha! I was worrying over nothing!” He roared. “One of my Shield-Maidens is the Witch of the Wilds! This is a great boon to us!”

“The Witch of the Wilds has no side,” Angela snapped. “She is beholden to no one. Being chosen voids any vow she took before.”

“Once a Maiden, always a Maiden,” the king grinned. “Don’t you remember?”

“She might be a Maiden, but she must be the Witch first!”

“This is a wonderful conversation,” Zarya said, “for another day. This has been a long day, an exhausting battle, and…an _interesting_ turn of events; we should be focused on relaxing instead of fighting with words.”

“And I need time to understand _what the fuck just happened to me!_ ” Hana cried.

“I remember when I was chosen,” Angela smiled. “It was a very, very strange time. Difficult, but exciting.”

“I’m a Shield-Maiden! I don’t know how to be the Witch! I don’t know if I _want_ to be the Witch!”

“It is a weighty responsibility, and a great shock,” Angela said. “But I am still here. I will be your mentor.”

“And you’ll still have us as your sisters,” Lena said. “Come on, you’ll be our little sister forever.”

Hana was clearly in shock. The broom was still floating around her, and she idly tried to shoo it away.

“That’s your broom now,” Angela said. “Call it.”

Hana hesitantly held up her hand, and the broom immediately jumped to her palm. She held the broom in her hand, looking at it in stunned silence. It was strange, seeing Hana in her modern, form-fitting piloting suit, carrying such an old relic. But for some reason, it looked right.

“This is all touching, but we need to get moving,” Jack said. “This place is burning down, and we need to get home.”

“We are _not_ going down that fucking cobblestone road again,” Zarya yelled.

Just mentioning the cobblestone road made everyone flinch or shiver.

“We can’t go down the road tonight,” Angela said. “Especially tonight, when the enchanted woods are especially troublesome, and the veil between words is thin.”

“But where will we stay?” Hana asked.

“There,” she said, pointing to the burning mansion.

“That’s on fire!” Hana said.

“Then it will be your first lesson in magic.”

“I don’t even know how to use magic!”

“That is what I’m here for,” Angela smiled. “I can teach you the basics.”

“You said you gave up your magic!” the King spat.

“And I did. But I have a little left, smoldering embers really, just enough to help teach the new Witch the basics. I can only do a few things before it is all gone.”

Angela gently took Hana’s hand, and led her towards the mansion. All four floors were burning, but somehow nothing had collapsed. Fareeha remembered Angela saying that the mansion contained powerful magic, magic that simply could not be simply destroyed. Ruined, yes, but not completely destroyed.

“There is magic all around us,” she said. “It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It holds the world together.” She pointed towards the burning mansion. “Even when things are being ruined, they still have their magic. Close your eyes, reach out and feel it with your mind. It is the silky lines that connect everything. Do you feel it?”

Hana closed her eyes, then opened them with a gasp.

“Gods, it’s everywhere,” she said, suddenly in awe. “It’s all so bright…”

“It was overwhelming to me, too, when I was first chosen to be the Witch. You can feel the raw power in the fire, no? We need to stop it.”

“But how?”

“By reaching out, and calming it down. Here.”

Angela held her hand up, and Hana mimicked her.

“There’s not much magic left in me; I can only do a little,” she said. “But reach out with your mind, feel the power, then gently stop it, like you would gently ease a dog down.”

The fire that was roaring on the roof suddenly dimmed, but didn’t go out. That had to be Angela’s doing.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yes.”

“Now you do it.”

Hana held her hand steady, and closed her eyes.

“Easy now, don’t overextend yourself.”

The fire dwindled, then stopped. At first, it was one patch of fire that was put out, but the rest quickly followed. Soon, the roof was extinguished, with only steam billowing into the cool night air. The rest of the fire was quickly extinguished.

“That is your first taste of magic,” Angela smiled. “How does it feel?”

“Like, like I just knew what to do,” Hana said. Her voice was filled with excitement and confidence; she wasn’t scared anymore. “It was like something I’ve done before, like I was remembering how to ride a bike.”

“That is why the magic chose you. It needed the perfect vessel, and you’re it.”

“Is this what it’s like being the Witch of the Wilds?”

“A small part of it,” Angela said. “There is still much you still need to learn. And not all of it is pleasant. I’m sorry, but this is a great burden to bear.”

“But I’ll do it,” Hana said. Seeing what she had done had brought her confidence back.

“That’s the spirit. Now we have to get everyone inside. Everyone, please, follow me.”

Angela began leading the forces around the mansion, towards the front door. Hana was next to her, giddy at being selected. She held the broom close to her, like it hadn’t been Angela’s not just ten minutes before, but rather _her_ broom that she had owned her entire life.

Fareeha started walking with them, but a hand grabbed her. It was her mother, and behind her was Jack, Lena, and Zarya.

“What the hell is going on?” Her mother demanded. “What have you done?”

“Mother, it…this is complicated.”

“I saw you holding that bitch’s hand,” the Alchemist snarled. “What did she do to you?”

“Hold on now,” Lena said, gasping. “When we went shopping for makeup, you said you were going to use it to seduce the Witch of the Wilds. Holy hell, you weren’t joking, ya really meant it!”

“You seduced the Witch? The enemy of the realm?!” the Alchemist demanded.

“It’s…please, just let me—”

“Explain why you’re fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Mother, please, this—”

“I thought I raised you better than this!” She yelled. “I thought—!”

“Ana, this has been a crazy night,” the Soldier said, gently taking her shoulder. “We all need time to come to terms with everything that’s happening. A lot of shit went down, and it will take time to sort everything out.”

Fareeha couldn’t meet her mother’s one-eyed glare, or Lena and Zarya staring open-mouthed at her.

“I don’t know if I should be in awe,” Zarya said, “or commit you to a mental hospital.”

“Well…I gotta say, she _is_ pretty hot,” Lena said, trying to look on the bright side to cheer her up.

“She really is,” Fareeha laughed.

They came to the main doors of the mansion. The large doors were battered open by a siege engine, nearly knocked clean off their hinges.

“Things that are destroyed are simply out of order,” Angela said to Hana. “Imagine a string tied into a knot. It’s a simple matter of undoing the knot, reverting it to an earlier step. Look at the burned carpet.”

Angela waved her hand, and the carpet’s burns vanished, transforming it back into a regular, soot stained rug.

“Yes, I see it,” Hana said. “This magic…it’s just so overwhelming. I never knew everything was so connected.”

“And this is just the beginning. I’m sorry to ask this much of you, but this is a very large task, and we don’t have much of a choice,” Angela said. Sweat was beading on her forehead, and she was gasping for breath. It was clear that using whatever magic was left in her was a draining experience. “After all, this is your mansion now.”

“This is mine?” Hana gasped.

“Of course it is yours; this mansion is for the Witch of the Wilds, and you're the Witch. Now, reach out, feel the doors, and feel the frayed strings. It is a simple matter of undoing the damage.”

Hana closed her eyes and held her hands up. At first, the wooden doors lost their char slowly, but soon, every piece of damage reverted itself. 

The doors straightened, and reattached themselves to the hinges. The fire that had consumed the ballroom played in reverse, starting from the higher floors and traveling down. Wood grew, shredding the charcoal remains. Carpets sprung to life like they were grass in a forest. Paint turned from a burned, bubbling pitch to a layer across the wall.

Even the smoke vanished, leaving everything smelling pristine and fresh. It was just the way it was when Fareeha cleaned it.

“This is incredible,” Hana gushed. “It’s like I was born for this!”

“In many ways, you were. But it is not all fun and games,” Angela sighed. “Come, I must show you the first task you have as the Witch. Fareeha, remember the poem I told you, _Don’t Go Out Alone?_ ”

“’Certain lines can’t be uncrossed,’” she said, the memory leaping to the forefront of her mind, “’certain maps will get you lost.’”

“Exactly. As the Witch, Hana will have to cross those lines,” Angela said. “And I have to show her. Please, keep everyone downstairs.”

Fareeha paled, but nodded, and Angela led Hana up the stairs. Hana took a few steps, then thought better of walking. She placed her broom next to her, and it immediately went to hovering. She jumped on, and was flying around like she was born riding a broom.

The Knights, Shield-Maidens, and Thanes entered the ballroom. Many found spots on the sofas and collapsed into them, exhausted from the fight.

“I can’t believe our little sister is the Witch,” Zarya said. “And I can’t believe you slept with the old one!”

“Zarya, please, my mother is ready to kill me; I don’t think I can talk about this tonight,” Fareeha sighed. She sat down on the stairs, keeping everyone in the ballroom.

“Right, you do look happy with her, and I hate to be the spoilsport here,” Lena said, popping down next to her, “but I have to ask: luv, are ya sure you’re really in love with her?”

“I am. Why?”

“Because…well, even if she didn’t want you, she did take you away, lock you in a mansion,” Lena said with a heavy look. “That ain’t the way good relationships start.”

“It reeks of Stockholm Syndrome,” Zarya said.

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh.

“It isn’t,” she said. “I was never locked up. When she first brought me be back to this mansion, she actually told me to go home the very next day.”

“Yea, you did come back to us the day after All Hallows’ Eve,” Lena said. “I remember that!”

“I remember it, too. You nearly squeezed the life out of me.”

“And…and holy shit, we just sent you back! We thought it was a test. It wasn’t, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t some test,” Fareeha laughed. “You should’ve seen her face! She was shocked that I decided to come back!”

“Then why did you go back?” Zarya asked.

“Because the King thought it _was_ a test, and he ordered me to go back.” Fareeha shook her head. “I’m glad I did now, but I’ll have to stop following orders so well. I might end up like Reaper.”

“What do you mean, ‘like Reaper?’”

“Ah-hem. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Jack was walking up to the stairs. He approached carefully, aware that he was interrupting a moment between Shield-Maidens.

“Not at all,” Fareeha said. “Doesn’t my mother want to talk to me?”

“Your mother is _more_ than a bit pissed off right now,” he said. “She thinks you’re an oath breaker.”

“I don’t think we actually took an oath to kill the Witch on sight.”

“The way she sees it, it’s an oath that shouldn’t have to be said.”

Fareeha’s heart dropped. She wanted to tell her mother about Angela. But not like this; never like this. She had to ease her mother into the situation, not to suddenly spring it on her during a massive battle.

“She’s angrier about your letter,” he said. “She read it, and saw it as proof that the Witch was brainwashing you.”

“It wasn’t a very good letter,” Fareeha admitted, “but I couldn’t think of what to change. I had to get my thoughts and feelings out.”

“You should know it was your mother that petitioned the king to listen to Junkenstein,” Zarya said.

“What?”

“Yea, when he came to the castle, he wanted an audience with the King,” Lena said. “He said he could get us to the Witch, so we can help him ‘get his revenge’ on her. The King was ‘bout to slap him in chains, when your mother told him to consider it.”

“She thought you were being indoctrinated,” Zarya said. “She said your letter proved it.”

“And let me guess: Junkenstein wanted revenge because he thinks he was spurned, or denied something.”

“Classic madman, that one,” Jack said. “Anything that doesn’t go his way is a conspiracy out to get him. ‘If I lose, it’s rigged!’ But can you see how your mother sees this? How every one of us sees this?”

“I know, I know, it looks bad, but I’m fine. I’m more than fine. I’m in love—”

A bloodcurdling, ear piercing scream echoed from the top floors of the mansion, turning Fareeha’s blood to ice. It was Hana’s scream, and something told her that it was Hana learning about the things that the Witch had to learn.

“What was that?” King Reinhardt’s voice easily filled the massive ballroom. Suddenly, everyone was armed.

“Maidens, to arms,” Zarya yelled. “Our sister is in danger!”

“Please, don’t,” Fareeha said, standing up. “You can’t go upstairs right now, it’s…it could be dangerous.”

“Like hell,” Lena snapped, drawing her pistols. “Fareeha, Hana’s in trouble!”

Suddenly all of the realm’s armed forces were trying to force their way up the stairs, the Shield-Maidens ready to lead the charge.

“Hana will be fine,” she yelled, trying to hold back the growing tide.

“I already lost my daughter,” her mother yelled. It shouldn’t have surprised Fareeha to see her mother at the forefront. “I won’t lose a sister!”

That got a rouse from the Maidens. It looked like they were going to take the stairs by force, but they suddenly went quiet.

Fareeha turned around. Angela was walking down the stairs with Hana, gently leading her by the hand. Hana was visibly pale, gripping her broom in a white-knuckled grip, and she had a thousand-yard stare.

“Sister,” Zarya said, “are…are you well?”

“Hana, talk to us,” Lena said.

But Hana didn’t respond. Angela gently took her shoulder, which seemed to snap Hana out of the haze.

“I can’t be a Maiden,” she said flatly.

“What?”

“What did you do to her?” Ana demanded.

“I showed her some of her appointed tasks,” Angela said.

“You put a spell on her!”

“I swear upon the Old Gods, I have no more magic left,” Angela promised. “Please, this is part of being the Witch of the Wilds. Hana has to know this.”

“Maidens,” the King yelled, “the Witch has broken her oath.”

“No, she hasn’t,” Hana mumbled.

“We’ll save you, Hana!”

“Please, stop.”

“To arms!” Ana called.

“I. Said. Stop!!”

Hana raised her hand, and every weapon was suddenly ripped from the hands of their owners, and effortlessly pulled up into the air. Even Zarya and Reinhardt were disarmed.

Hana pointed, and the weapons were flung across the ballroom to the corner she pointed at.

“ _I’m_ the Witch of the Wilds now,” she said with authority. “I have to bear this mantle of responsibility. I’m the one who has to stand guard over this plane of existence; it is the Gods themselves who have appointed me this task! Don’t you _dare_ bring war upon my house.”

Hana wasn’t riding her broom; rather, she was gripping it in her hand. But it still seemed to be able to lift her in the air, as she was suddenly floating off the ground, gazing upon everyone with fury leaking from her eyes. It seemed like there was a gale that was suddenly in the mansion, gently blowing things about.

“I’m the one who protects this world from the gaze of the abyss. I’m the one who stands guard against the things that can’t be known. I’m the one…I’m the one…oh gods, it’s too much.” Suddenly, Hana faltered. She deflated, dropping back down to the ground. Her gaze shrunk, the gale disappeared, and she was staring at her feet instead of hovering. She was shaking. “Is this why the Witch is a position…? No one woman could do this. Not forever.”

“That’s exactly why it can be passed along,” Angela said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“How could you do it for so long?”

“Because it was better than the pain I felt,” Angela said. “I lost someone I loved, and it nearly killed me. Losing myself in the magic, losing myself to the balance, it was so much easier than facing reality. Hana, please, never let yourself be consumed by that pain. Don’t be like me, living alone in this mansion. You’ll become the next creature of the night, one who is cursed at and feared. You’ll be the one who is wicked, the one who is used as a bedtime story to scare children.”

“I understand,” Hana said, nodding. “I understand everything now. King Reinhardt, being the Witch is a far bigger responsibility than being a Shield-Maiden. I can’t answer to you anymore; I have to relinquish the vows I took.”

Reinhardt stared, unsure of what was going on, or of what Hana was saying.

“What does that—?”

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “There are things that I could _never_ tell anyone. Please. Don’t make me.”

It was her even demeanor, and the thousand-yard stare, that convinced the King to not press the issue.

“V-very well,” he said. “If you wish to relinquish your vows, than you are relieved of your duty.”

Hana sighed in relief.

“But you’re still our sister,” Zarya added. That came as a shock to Hana.

“W-what?” Hana said. “But I’m no longer a Maiden.”

“Once a Maiden, always a Maiden,” Zarya said with a gentle smile. “That will never change, little sister.”

“Got that right,” Lena said. “You said this place is yours now, right? Well, that just means we’ll have to find a way to visit you.”

Many Maidens nodded. Hana looked like she would cry.

“Never give this up,” Angela said. “Learn from my mistake. Never lock yourself out.”

“Thank you,” Hana cried. “I’ll…I need time with this.”

“And we need to sleep,” Fareeha said. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she was crashing.

“Good thing we got all the rooms clean,” Angela smiled. “There should be room for everyone. Come, we’ll show you around.”

“Wait,” Fareeha said. “Maybe we should give guest rights. Just to make everyone feel safe.”

“I would, but it’s no longer my mansion.”

All eyes turned to Hana.

“If this is our little sister’s mansion now,” Zarya said, “I don’t need guest rights.”

Many Maidens agreed with her.

“Now, let’s get to sleep,” the pink haired woman laughed. “This has been quite the day.”

As everyone went to recover their discarded weapons, Fareeha helped Angela open the many, many bedrooms in the mansion. There were over a hundred soldiers, but one of the earlier Witches of the Wild had over one hundred children; they had enough rooms to spare. As they filled each room up, they moved up the stairs. Soon they were finally at the top floor, next to the Witch’s, Hana’s, new chambers, with only a few rooms left.

“Sorry,” Hana said to the King, “but the double-door room is mine.”

“Ach. You are lucky I am but a guest here,” he said. “Very well, I’ll take the one next to it.”

“Take the second door,” Hana said. “Not the third; that’s where the Oculus and Ocular are.”

He lumbered off to the room, keeping his armor on. It was clear that he still didn’t trust the way things were going, but was too polite to say anything.

“Thank you,” Hana said, taking Angela’s hand. “Thank you for showing me. And I still have a lot to learn.”

“I promise you,” she said, pulling her in for a hug, “I’ll be the best mentor I can.”

The hug was just what Hana needed. She waved her hand, and her new room opened for her. That only left Fareeha with Angela, Ana, and Jack. Her mother was still glaring death at Angela.

“Mother,” Fareeha said. “I know you don’t like how things are, or how they turned out, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be better at telling you my true feelings. But I’m happy, and I want to tell you something.”

Ana’s eye opened at that.

“You better not,” she snapped.

“But I have to,” Fareeha said. She took Angela’s hand. “This is Angela Ziegler. And I love her.”

Fury leaked out of her mother’s eye.

“You love her?” She demanded.

“I do.”

“She’s the Witch!”

“Not any longer.”

Her mother wanted to say something, but her anger only made her sputter.

“Ana, please,” Jack said. “Just hear your daughter out.”

“I don’t have a daughter.”


	23. The Day After All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with Angela had become a dream.
> 
> But with the attack, reality has given Fareeha a cruel wake up call. Now her life is changing again.

Fareeha stood at the thicket that led to the cobblestone road, her backpack heavy on her shoulders, overflowing with the clothes she brought from the realm. Angela was next to her, holding her hand. She had no idea how she was able to pull herself from bed this morning. She had barely slept a wink, her mother’s voice ringing in her ears.

_I don’t have a daughter._

“Hey,” Angela said. “You can’t start fading away, not now.”

“I know,” Fareeha said. “But…it’s hard.”

“I can only imagine,” Angela said. “But we have to show everyone the way.”

Fareeha looked behind them. The king’s army was behind them, following them as they were making their way back to the realm. Hana sat on her broom, flying up and down the line, getting soldiers ready for their tribulations.

Lena and Zarya were right behind her. They had been the first to learn that Fareeha had been disowned.

“We really gotta go this way?” Lena asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Angela said. “It’s the only way.”

“Damn. Not looking forward to this…”

“Fareeha, will you be safe with this trip?” Zarya asked. “It cannot be easy for you, especially now.”

“It isn’t,” she said, “but we don’t have much of a choice. I have to help everyone here get back.”

“Hana will let you stay at the mansion as long as you want.”

“But that’s the place where…where my mother disowned me. I can’t stay there, it’ll poison every good memory I have of it.”

“It is…shit, it is damn strange to hear you saying that you have good memories of that place,” Zarya said. “But you are right, one bad memory can spoil everything. I know that all too well.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Angela said, “how is that?”

“You should know. It was the Omnic Crisis.”

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” Angela said. She tried to take Zarya’s hand.

“Like hell you are,” Zarya spat, pulling her hand back. “You helped give those damned things life.”

“And I gave _everyone_ endless warnings,” Angela spat right back. She glared at Zarya with so much fury that Zarya stepped back. “I told them, time and time again, exactly what would happen should they sign my pact and make the Omnics. And time and time again, I was ignored. Yes, I had a hand in it, but I did everything I could to prevent it.”

“But you still created them!”

“Because they paid the price. I did not like it, but a pact is a pact.”

“And you’re so damned good at keeping your pacts,” Zarya hissed.

“I am. If a parent warned a child not to touch a stove because it was hot, and the child did it anyways, would you blame the parent? Would you blame a grocery store for selling an alcoholic liquor?”

“What? No.”

“Why?” Angela pressed.

“Because they warned the child, and it was the alcoholic’s choice to buy it.”

“And it is my duty to sell the pact to the ones who wanted to sign it,” Angela said. “I warned them, but nobody listened. So why am _I_ blamed when my warnings are ignored and tragedy came to light?”

“Angela, this isn’t the time,” Fareeha said, gently taking Angela’s hand.

“I told her what she wanted to hear,” Angela said.

“The fuck you mean?” Zarya demanded.

“You demanded an answer; I gave it to you.”

“You want to justify the destruction of my birth kingdom as just something that had to happen?” Zarya sputtered.

“There have been tougher lessons learned.”

“Don’t you fucking dare try to equate the Crisis to that!”

“If my answers frighten you, then you should cease asking scary questions.”

That got Zarya to stop. It was a good thing, too. Many of the soldiers behind them were reaching towards their weapons, wary of the former Witch.

“We need to get home,” Zarya said, brushing past Angela and through the thicket.

Lena quickly followed Zarya, either to catch up to her or to get away from Angela.

“Did you have to do that?” Fareeha asked.

Angela was quiet as they pushed through the thicket, but her shoulders slumped after a few seconds.

“No, I don’t think so,” she sighed. “I was answering her as the Witch of the Wilds; and I’ve been the Witch for so long, I’ve forgotten how to be myself. Dammit.”

She jogged ahead, catching up with Zarya. Both Zarya and Lena were standing at the head of the cobblestone road, clearly not relishing the return trip.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have been so damned detached. I’ve been the Witch, the disinterested and benevolent spectator for so long, I’ve forgotten how to be anything else.”

Zarya looked at her, wondering where Angela was going.

“What happened to you was a tragedy. What happened to your birth kingdom was the cruelest fate imaginable. And the way I reacted was shameful. I don’t want to trivialize it, or make your suffering seem any less real or valid than it is. I was trying to justify my actions, and I shouldn’t have. It was wrong of me.”

“Don’t you want to ask for forgiveness, too?” Zarya said, a hard edge to her voice.

“No, I don’t. I only want you to know that I was wrong, and I regret that the conversation went the way it did.”

That made Zarya stop. She stared at Angela for several seconds.

“Um...thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Angela took a deep breath. “Right, we have to get down this road. Remember what I said: always stay with a friend, never let them out of your sight, and stay on the road. Are you ready?”

“No, but there’s no point in waiting,” Zarya said.

“That’s the spirit. Let’s go.”

Together, they hesitantly stepped down the cobblestone road. The unnatural silence rolled over them, and Fareeha’s stomach began to flip with the omnipresent _wrongness_.

“Dammit, do we really have to go down this thing?” Lena asked.

“It’s the only way,” Angela said.

More soldiers followed them through the thicket. Hana, on her new broom, floated over it.

“Just…be careful,” the new Witch told everyone. “Buddy system. No one walks alone.”

They started down the road, and all was quiet. Fareeha was waiting for something to happen, either to hear the inky pull or sharp rebuke.

She was fearing that she’d hear her mother disowning her again.

But the road was quiet. She reached into her pack, stuffed to the brim with her clothes and belongings, and took out Angela’s map. Would it still work even if she wasn’t the Witch? It didn’t matter; it was something, and that was better than nothing.

The only sound on the road was the muted echoing sound of arms, armor, and the marching of feet. Fareeha looked at Angela; she had a hard look on her, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, Angela looked up.

“Fareeha,” she said, “stop her.”

She spun around, and saw Lena meandering off. She had a vacant look in her eyes, no doubt being seduced by the cobblestone road. Fareeha ran over and grabbed her shoulder, just as she was taking a step off the road.

“Lena.” Her friend didn’t respond. “Lena!”

She shook Lena violently, snapping her out of it.

“W-what? What was that?”

“The cobblestone road,” Fareeha said. “Please, stay with us.”

Lena was gasping for breath. Whatever she saw made her heart pound, made her break out into a cold sweat. She looked behind them, and saw a few other Knights and Maidens starting to stray from the path. Fortunately, their friends where there to stop them.

“папа?”

Fareeha spun around. This time, it was Zarya that was glassy-eyed.

“папа, Это ты?”

“Lena, we have to stop Zarya,” she said.

Zarya dropped her cannon and started running off the road, chasing some phantom.

“Now!”

“Папа, пожалуйста, вернись!!”

Lena reached Zarya first, and tried to grab her arm. She planted her feet, but even that wasn’t enough against Zarya’s strength. Lena was dragged along with her.

“папа, открой дверь!” Zarya screamed, tears running down her face. “Пожалуйста, открой дверь! Ты сгоришь!”

Zarya was running off the road; she had to be stopped. Angela was next to reach Zarya. She grabbed her other arm, but it was still not enough.

“Не оставляй меня!!”

Fareeha finally reached her. She threw herself at Zarya’s waist, wrapping her arms around her friend’s legs until she could grab her wrists. With her arms locked in place, she held on as hard as she could, and finally managed to trip her friend up. Against Zarya’s strength, it felt like her arms would pop out of their sockets. But Zarya finally fell, but still tried to claw her way forward.

“Папа, не надо! Ты сгоришь, ты должен жить!”

Angela pulled herself up from the tangle of limbs and got in front of Zarya, gently grabbing her head.

“Мэй! Нет, только не ты!”

“Wake up!” Angela yelled.

Crying and screaming, Zarya finally snapped out of the haze the road put her in. Tears and snot were running down her face. Fareeha never saw Zarya so scared before.

“Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real,” Angela said. “It was the magic of the road trying to draw you astray. Please, Zarya, come back to us.”

Zarya suddenly realized she was on the ground. She scrambled to her feet, and realized that she had, indeed, gone off the road by a few feet. She ran back to the road and grabbed her cannon.

“T-this place,” she stammered, still crying, “this damned place is cursed.”

“It is a place that runs between the worlds,” Angela said, helping Lena up. “And there are dark things between the worlds that will try to lead you astray.”

Hana flew over, swooping low on her broom.

“Zarya, I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I shouldn’t have left! I was so busy helping everyone else…!”

“No, Hana, you are fine,” Angela said. “We have to help everyone we can. Please, leave her safety with me, I swear she will make it back alive.”

Hana had a heavy look in her face. She wanted to stay with Zarya, but her duty to help the rest of the army won out, and she flew away. Down the line, men and women yelled as their friends tried to leave the road.

Zarya never said anything. She marched forward, cannon held in white knuckles, shaking, never saying a word.

“What was she saying?” Lena asked. “Do you know Russian?”

“No, I don’t,” Fareeha said, rubbing her shoulders. 

“She was calling out to her father,” Angela said.

“You speak Russian?”

“I know Russian,” Angela corrected. “I have plenty of books on the language. I’m better at reading it than I am hearing it, but she was calling for her father.”

“Why?”

“She saw him burn to death. Back when she was a girl in the Crisis.”

The mood quickly shifted to silence. Fareeha didn’t know any details about her friend’s past; Zarya never talked about it, and she never pressed the issue. If Angela was right, no wonder Zarya never brought it up.

The march continued. Zarya walked point, away from everyone else, despite Fareeha and Lena trying to join her. She walked on, silently crying, holding her cannon tight.

Arguments and yelling broke out down the line. There were some skirmishes as some tried to leave the road, and were violently stopped. But soon, they came upon the glen. It couldn’t come fast enough.

They led the group down the glen, and through the field that stood between the realm and the forest. As they were walking back, they heard triumphant music rising from the town.

“Crap, I forgot that they were waiting for us,” Lena said.

“Who are?” Fareeha asked.

“The entire town,” she said. “When Junkenstein said he would lead us through the enchanted woods, and your mom convinced Reinhardt to take him up on the offer, the King announced a crusade against the Witch; the Last Crusade. We had a full day to…well, to end her. They’re waiting for us, no doubt to celebrate.”

As they came closer to the town, Fareeha could see that the street was empty, but the sidewalks were bursting at the seams with the citizens of the realm. It was a parade, a parade for the conquering army.

Zarya came to a stop. She was still shaking.

“Zarya, are you okay?” Fareeha asked.

She was quiet for a long time before answering.

“No,” she finally said. “I’m not okay. I’m…”

Fareeha put a gentle hand on her arm. Zarya took her hand, squeezing hard.

“If you see Mei,” she asked, tears in her eyes, “tell me.”

“I will.”

From further back on the line, the King walked up. He saw the parade, and snorted.

“Ach. Misplaced optimism,” he muttered.

“What shall we tell them?” Lena asked.

“The truth,” he said. “It was my deal with the Witch that led to this.”

“But it’s a wish made to me,” Fareeha said. “Not with Angela.”

The King snorted.

“Details,” he said. “Just details.”

The King led the column through the clearing, onto the streets where the parade ground was waiting. The men and women sworn to the King breathing sighs of relief and cursing the cobblestone road.

Music blared from speakers as throngs of people lined the street, cheering the return of the King and the army. Many saw Fareeha and cheered harder, celebrating the final return of the Shield-Maiden taken by the Witch.

Fareeha held onto Angela’s hand like she would be taken away at any moment. She was truly scared that the mob of people would turn violent, and try to burn her at a stake. After everything they went through, that was the only thing that truly scared her.

But Angela’s battlefield haircut made her unrecognizable to the crowds; it also helped that she wasn’t wearing her Witch costume. The crowds cheered as the King led them back to the castle, steely eyed and quiet. Considering how normally boisterous he was, the fact that he was stone-faced quickly tipped the crowds off that something was wrong.

At first, it was a few people who pointed to the somber King. Then it was dozens. Soon the cheering tapered off, only to be replaced with cautious whisperings. Someone turned off the music.

What was going on? Why was the King so quiet? Fareeha could practically hear the questions, even though the talk amongst the crowd was unintelligible.

People gasped, mostly in fear, put partly in shock. Fareeha turned around; Hana was flying towards the King on her broom.

“We lost a few on the trip back,” she said, sitting on her broom.

“You might want to walk like the rest of us,” Angela said.

Hana looked up, suddenly realizing that people were staring at her.

“Oh.”

But the talk turned from fear to curiosity. Hana was a beloved Shield-Maiden; why was she flying on the Witch’s broom?

Hana jumped off the broom. It still hovered next to her.

“We lost ten on the trip back,” she said. “I tried to catch them, but there was too much ground to cover, and they…well, they moved fast.”

“And we lost seven on the trip out,” the King mumbled. “Seventeen on the trip.”

“But we didn’t lose anyone in the battle,” Hana said.

“Aye, because we were lucky and caught the Witch unaware.”

“You did,” Angela said. “First, I am no longer the Witch of the Wilds, Hana is; so please use my proper name. Second, please do not talk about me like I am not here.”

Reinhardt glared at her, but only for a second.

“You’re right, that was rude of me,” he said. “I need to act like a king, not a schoolboy with a grudge.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And Fareeha,” Hana said. “Your…your mother tried to walk off. Jack stopped her. She’s, uh, beside herself.”

“Does she still want to see me?” Fareeha asked.

Hana’s silence was the answer she needed. There was that Amari pride, rearing its ugly head. Ana wouldn’t be in the mood to take back anything said, and Fareeha could feel her own pride rising in her breast, resenting her mother and filling her with a grim resolve to not break the silence herself.

“Thank you.”

Hana nodded, and fell in next to Zarya. The pink-haired woman was scanning the crowd.

“Oy, there’s Mei,” Lena said.

They were coming up on the palace, and near the entrance were her friend’s significant others. Fareeha saw Mei, Emily, and even Lúcio with his trademarked headphones. They were all smiling, but Emily’s was starting to droop, questioning what she was seeing.

Zarya dropped her cannon and bolted towards Mei. Fareeha never saw her treat her beloved cannon so carelessly. Zarya pushed a few men and woman side until she got to Mei, and wrapped her in a fierce hug.

“Zarya?” Mei asked. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t leave me, ever again,” Zarya cried.

“What happened? Was the battle, was it bad?”

“It was the trip,” Hana said, walking over.

“Hana? What is with the broom? Is that the Witch’s?”

“Mei, I had the worst vision,” Zarya sobbed. “Visions where you were taken from me in the fires that destroyed my birthplace. I—I felt like I was dying. It felt like my heart was being pulled from my very chest and crushed to pieces.”

“Zarya, please, what are you saying?”

“Marry me.” That made everyone stop. “I don’t know how to live if you were to be taken from me.”

Mei began blushing furiously.

“Zarya, I…what?”

“Will you marry me?”

“O-of course I will, but—!”

She was cut off by Zarya, who had started crying again. Fareeha had never seen the stoic Zarya so scared before. The cobblestone road was clearly a horrifying experience for her.

People around Zarya cheered for her proposal. Mei was more stunned than anyone, and she held and comforted Zarya.

“This is a great day,” Lúcio smiled. “Our loved ones came back, our friends are getting married, _and_ the realm is safe! It is, right? Hana, why do you have a broom?”

Hana was quietly walking up to her boyfriend.

“It’s my broom now,” she said. “Things, they, uh, changed. I’m the Witch now.”

“What do you mean, ‘you’re the Witch now?’” Lúcio asked, his eyebrow arching.

“She means, she’s magic now,” Angela said.

“Oh, I already knew she was magic,” Lúcio smiled. “She put a spell on me the second I saw her!”

Fareeha didn’t know what was more romantic; Zarya’s sudden proposal, or Lúcio being Lúcio. Hana blushed and, for the first time since the night before, truly smiled.

“Damn, is he always like that?” Angela whistled.

“Y-yea, he is…”

“You keep that man.”

“Angela!!”

“Is this another friend?” Lúcio asked. “Another Maiden?”

“That was a long time ago,” Angela said. “Besides, your girlfriend has to tell you what she means.”

“I’m the Witch of the Wilds now,” Hana said. She held her palm up, and sparkling lights floated from them.

“You’re _the_ Witch?” Lúcio gasped.

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m in love with the Witch of the Wilds?!”

Hana went back to blushing and stuttering when the King raised his hands for silence. The gathered crowd, already given to whispering rumors, was quickly quieted. A microphone was given to the King, and he began speaking.

“We began this crusade to end the Witch of the Wilds,” he said. “But things have changed. We did face the Witch in battle, and we did fight. And we did win. But…but there were revelations, knowledge that changed our crushing victory into a bitter defeat.

“Last year, the Witch gave me an ultimatum: surrender Fareeha Amari to her, or face the destruction of the realm. It was with a heavy heart that I ordered her mother, Ana Amari, to surrender her daughter to me. I gave the Witch what she wanted; I gave away one of the most loyal and devoted of my subjects, selling her like I was a slaver.

“But the Witch, under an oath to the Old Gods, revealed the truth: she never wanted my subject. It was a test, one that I was not supposed to pass. I was supposed to remain loyal to my subjects, and fight for what was right.

“I did not pass it. I failed her test. I have acted in a dishonorable manner, unfitting of a king.”

King Reinhardt shook his head. The crowd watched, waited, in stunned silence.

“I had failed my subjects. And on the field of battle, my Maiden returned, demanding that I spare the Witch’s life. I had wronged her in the worst way, betrayed her most sacred trust. As much as I wanted to end the Witch, I could not deny her wish. Many of you had heard rumors from our troops as we return home.”

He gestured towards Angela.

“Those rumors are true: I have given the Witch of the Wilds a full royal pardon.”

The crowd reacted badly, screaming and shouting.

“I gave the Witch a pardon because of Fareeha, my Maiden,” he said, his amplified voice rising to combat the screams and jeers of the crowd, and beating them. “I wanted to make a new covenant with her, to make up for my failings, and to do that, I needed to show her that I could be trusted again. I gave her a wish, and her wish was to create a new beginning with the Witch. The first step was to grant her a pardon, so we may have a new beginning. And as a show of good faith, the Witch has surrendered her magic; she will no longer be able to threaten the realm. She will become one of us.”

“That’s a big leap in logic,” Fareeha whispered.

“But if I were to live in the realm, I had to do it,” Angela said. “To live in the realm would be to join you, to live as a human. He’s not wrong, he’s just putting a political spin to it.”

Both women went unheard amongst the yelling.

“Yes, the Witch of the Wilds has surrendered her position,” the King said. That gained favor with the crowd. “But just as a ‘king’ is a position, so is the Witch of the Wilds. The woman who surrendered her power is now human again, and had passed the position to a new woman, a new Witch.”

The King turned to Hana, who was holding hands with Lúcio.

“Please, we have to tell them,” he said.

Hana paused, but Lúcio was there, giving her a radiant, supportive smile.

“It’ll be rough, but I’m always here for you,” he said.

Her spirit bolstered, Hana nodded, and walked to the King’s side.

“The magic had chosen Hana Song, the Shield-Maiden’s rising star, to be the new Witch,” he said.

Hana stood tall against the crowd, ready for anything. But she was met with stunned silence. No one knew how to react.

“I have released her from her vows as a Maiden, but she is still one of us,” Reinhardt said. “She is still a beloved daughter of the realm. So long as my bloodline presides over the throne, she will forever be welcome in this realm. This I swear upon my name, in the eyes of the Old Gods.”

Hana stood before the silent crowd, but turned to look back at Lúcio.

“This has been an eventful day,” the King said. “Please, return to your homes. We all need the rest.”

Fareeha looked across the square, and saw her mother. Ana glared at her, her eye filled with rage. Jack might be holding her mother back, but she would not be welcome at home.

“Fareeha!”

Hana was calling her name, and had been for a few seconds.

“Hmm? Sorry, I…I saw my mother.”

“I know,” her former apprentice said. “She’s still angry at you. If you need a place to stay, you can use my apartment.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll have to be leaving anyways,” Hana said. “I’m the Witch. I have to live in the mansion.”

“Do you have to?” Lúcio asked. “That’s so far away.”

“The mansion is where several ley lines meet,” Angela said. “It makes it easier for the Witch to perform her duties, and her very presence strengthens those lines. If she were to live elsewhere, the ley lines would become frayed, and could even lead to the collapse of this world. I’m sorry, but the Witch has to live there.”

“I’ll find a way for you to visit,” Hana said. “Unless…unless you want to live with me.”

“This is a shock, and I'll need some time to really adjust to it, but do you really think that becoming the Witch of the Wilds is gonna make me run away?” Lúcio smiled. “Babe, you’ll have to try harder than that to get me to stop loving you.”

Fareeha tried to hide a grin as Lúcio made Hana blush yet again. She was so happy that Lúcio wasn’t scared away by Hana’s new rank, but she couldn’t help but think about much her life was changing yet again.

Just last year, she was given away to the Witch. Several months ago, they became lovers. Now it seemed that she would have to rebuild her life all over again. No, not her life, but _their_ lives. They would both be starting anew, her and Angela.

And as much as she wished that she would be able to live in peace with Angela, she knew better than to expect it. Her mother was a grim reminder that there would be many people who still took issue with Angela, even though she was no longer the Witch.

And yet, Fareeha was ready for it. She looked at Angela, taking her hand. Just looking at her deep cerulean eyes filled her with love, light, and a resolve to face down their future together. Besides, she made an oath, signed a pact with Angela to stay with her for the next year, come whatever may.

She’d rather die than break such a vow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to hakooo for helping with some Russian translation!


	24. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been half a year since Angela surrendered her position as the Witch of the Wilds. Half a year of struggling in a realm that was once her enemy. But Fareeha can't let her go, even when Zarya shows up with a surprise.

Fareeha woke with the sun. Now that she was back to living in the realm, she had properly re-joined the Shield-Maidens. She was even up for a promotion, to become the captain of the guard again.

She doubted she would ever get the position. The reason for that was holding her tightly.

Fareeha tried to get up without disturbing Angela, but she woke up all the same.

“Morning,” Angela yawned as she rolled over to stretch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.” Fareeha played with her hair. It had half a year to grow out, and was only starting to get down to her shoulders. She actually liked Angela with short hair.

“I was waking up anyways,” Angela said. “Remember, I’m used to waking with the sun, too. I did it for centuries as the Witch, millennia even, and immortal habits die hard.”

Fareeha kissed her.

“Then good morning,” she smiled. “But I have to get up. Zarya is coming over before we go to the barracks.”

Fareeha got up and walked over to the windows, peeking through them. Ever since they moved back into the realm, she had learned not throw open the curtains, and the reason she learned that lesson was on display in the street.

A small mob had gathered in the street, outside their townhouse. They must’ve arrived before the dawn, and seeing her peek through the curtain, many pointed and started yelling. Many held various anti-Witch signs; Fareeha saw signs that read ‘once a Witch, always a Witch,’ ‘death to the enemy of the realm,’ and ‘remember the raids, remember the terror.’

The people that were yelling were quickly silenced by a handful of others. They were in a residential neighborhood, and had to watch their noise. If they were quiet, the police wouldn’t have to be called, and they could continue harassing them.

Fareeha quickly closed the curtains, a mixture of white-hot hate and cold dread battling for dominance in her breast.

“They’re out there again, aren’t they?” Angela asked, walking over.

“You heard them yelling.”

Angela wrapped her arms around Fareeha. Fareeha took her hand.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Angela mumbled, burying her head into the back of Fareeha’s neck. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault that there are assholes in the realm.”

“But they’re still out there because of me. They hate you because of me.”

“Stop it.”

“I can’t. We had to fight to even see this house; no one wants to share a neighborhood with the former wicked Witch. We had to fight for the home loan, we had to fight for the bank to take the down payment, we had to fight for every account, every credit card, we had to fight for it all. The only reason we’ve gotten this far is because of Jack, and the aid of the king.”

“And I would do it all again, in a heartbeat,” Fareeha said. “You make it worth it.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Fareeha let Angela hold her. It made her feel better, safer.

“Do you want to shower first?”

“No, you get in the shower,” Angela said. “I’ll call the police.”

A shower did help cheer her up, enough to get her ready to face the day. Living with Angela was a struggle, but it was one that Fareeha could never give up. Just looking at Angela filled her with resolve to keep this beautiful woman in her life.

Freshly dressed in her uniform, she walked down the stairs to the kitchen, where Angela was on the phone.

“Yes, they’re a great annoyance,” she sighed. “No, they’re neither blocking traffic nor are making a racket, but it still falls within the jurisdiction of the non-emergency police line, that’s you, to disperse them…There have already been dozens documented cases of vandalism at our house, I think that is proof enough that these ‘protestors’ mean us ill.

“Their very presence is a threat to us! They’re carrying signs with thinly-veiled threats to our safety…Oh, you’re right, one sign reads ‘death to the enemy of the realm,’ there’s a _lot_ open to interpretation there.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh at that. She loved it when Angela got sarcastic.

“So even though this barely restrained mob is calling for my death, you’re going to ignore it because they’re neither blocking traffic nor are making excessive noise? So glad to know the police have their priorities right; let me speak to your supervisor…The last time I called I didn’t have to wait…So if I called in last time and got you, I would have to follow _your_ rules, not the ones laid out by the department? Give me your badge number.”

Fareeha gave Angela a piece of scrap paper.

“Yes, I want your name and your badge number. You have an obligation to give me that information…Thank you, and I still want to talk to your supervisor…Don’t you hang up—argh!”

Angela wound up, but stopped herself from throwing the phone.

“He hung up?”

“He said his supervisor would get back to me as soon as he was able,” she sighed. “Dammit. We better not get a brick through our window again.”

“I’ll go check on them, make sure they’re not going to get violent,” Fareeha said. She walked to the living room, and peeked through the curtain. The mob had grown by several people, but they didn’t seem to be getting violent, although she spied a used can of spray paint on the tree lawn. Great, just great. They just cleaned the graffiti from the garage last week.

“Do we still have that paint stripper and whitewash?”

“Oh for the love of the damned New Gods, did they tag the garage again?”

“I think so,” she sighed.

“Fuck.”

Fareeha looked out at the crowd. She was amazed that there was so much hate in the realm, but she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone lost something because of the Witch, and it wasn’t that long ago that she herself was calling for Angela’s death.

But so much has changed. She only wished everyone would see that.

Peeking through the downstairs curtain, she saw Zarya walking towards the house. She had a small backpack slung over her shoulder, but seeing the mob, she stopped dead in her tracks, her face growing red with fury. Suddenly, she turned on her heel, and stormed away.

“Better call the police again, they just pissed Zarya off.”

“Then it’s a good thing I haven’t had to re-affirm my Hippocratic Oath,” Angela said. “I don’t want to help those assholes.”

“You and me both,” she said, walking back. Angela had pulled out two large boxes of cereal and milk.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like I can cook with this shit going down.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Fareeha said. “But can you curse a few more times? I like hearing you swear.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m going to go on a real tear,” Angela smiled.

“Speaking of Hippocratic Oaths, how are your studies going?” Fareeha asked. “You’re barely half a year into the program. Is medical school still a breeze, or is it finally finding a way to challenge you?”

“Please, it’s still piss easy,” Angela said. “I’ve had centuries to teach myself nearly everything about the human body; I’m a doctor _to_ a doctor.”

“So you’re still able to teach the class yourself?”

“Ever since day one,” Angela laughed as she ate. “But nobody likes a know-it-all. I try to keep it to myself, but I have a feeling the teacher is on to me.”

“And how are you adjusting to being mortal again?”

“Ugh, it’s a challenge,” Angela groaned. “Becoming the Witch of the Wilds locked me into place, so to speak. I was in good shape before, so I stayed that way. I didn’t have to watch what I ate, what I drank…”

“Which was a lot,” Fareeha chuckled.

“Oh fuck off. Immortal depression is hard to beat,” Angela smiled. “But I didn’t have to worry about anything like maintaining a healthy diet and exercise. Now I have to get back to counting steps, watching what I eat, exercising, ugh, it’s a chore.”

“Do you regret giving up being the Witch?”

Angela took her hand.

“Not for a second,” she smiled.

They ate a quick breakfast, trying to relax as much as possible. As the sun rose, the mob began chanting more and more, their voices rising. Maybe it would be enough to get the police to finally intervene.

Suddenly, the mob went quiet. Angela and Fareeha got up to see what was going on.

They looked through the curtain, and saw a line of Shield-Maidens approaching their townhouse. Some Maidens wore dress uniforms, some wore exercise clothes, some wore their casual clothes with only the embroidered emblem of the Maidens to show who they were.

The Maidens marched in perfect parade formation. At the head of the column was Lena and Zarya. Jack was even there in the rear, although he didn’t march with the Maidens but rather followed along side them.

They marched in, placing themselves between the mob and their house.

“Parade, halt!” Lena cried.

As one, they came to a pristine stop.

“Right, face!”

The Maidens turned to the right, facing down the mob.

“Parade, rest!”

The Maidens stood ‘at ease,’ hands behind their back, rock-steady and immobile, and continued to stare down the mob, who was clearly off-put by their arrival. Zarya took a step forward to address the mob.

“Our sisters live here,” she said, her loud voice filling the street. “Once a Maiden, always a Maiden, and a threat against one is a threat against us all. So when you harass them, you harass us. When you vandalize their house, you spit on our faces. And when you _call for their deaths_ , you point a gun at us as well!”

The person holding the sign calling for Angela’s death quickly, self-consciously, lowered it.

“If you attack them, you attack us. And we will defend our sisters until our dying breath! Now leave!”

After being read the riot act, a handful of people immediately left, speed-walking away. Most of the mob stayed, but the Maidens stayed in formation, staring at them. As the Maidens held their gaze, more and more people began losing their nerve.

Zarya and Lena turned and walked to their door, leaving the line of sisters to stand guard on the house. Fareeha opened the door for her, and was surprised to see Jack waiting there as well.

“Permission to enter?” Zarya said, a small grin on her lips.

“Permission granted,” Fareeha smiled, welcoming them in. “Thank you for helping. The police decided to be useless today.”

“Assholes,” Jack grumbled. “You know they tagged your garage again, right?”

“No, but I figured,” Fareeha sighed, collapsing on a sofa. Both Zarya and Jack took the two chairs, but Lena was happy to sit cross-legged on the floor, in front of the coffee table.

“Daft bastards,” Lena grumbled. “I’ll stay and help get it cleaned up. I’m sure the sisters outside would pitch in, too.”

“I’ll help, too,” Jack said. “I don’t have anything to do today.”

“Thank you, both of you, so much. This is a surprising day so far; I knew Zarya was coming, but I wasn’t expecting you or Lena.”

“Just haven’t seen you in a while, kid,” Jack said. “Figured I’d drop by before you had to get your day started.”

Jack had a look in his eyes, one that Fareeha knew well.

“And give me an update on my mom?” She said, trying to keep the rage out of her voice.

“Fareeha, please, you know I’m trying to help you here.”

“Is it good news?” Zarya asked. “I come bearing good news, but I don’t want to have any bad news follow it.”

“More of the same old, sadly,” Jack sighed. “She’s still holding out hope that you’ll come to your senses and settle down with a normal woman.”

Fareeha took a deep breath. Her mother still wasn’t ready to ask for forgiveness, and she was certainly not ready to give it.

“She does know I don’t have any magic, right?” Angela asked with a good-natured smiled, sitting next to Fareeha. “I’m as normal as they come now.”

“Try getting a bullheaded Amari to see that,” he laughed. “I know she regrets…well, you know. I know she wants to try and do something about getting you back, but you know how stubborn you Amaris can be.”

“Tell me about it,” Angela said. “I tried to get Fareeha to leave me alone a year and a half ago, but she still found a way to stick around.”

She had to change the subject, if not for her sake than for everyone else’s. She didn’t want to explode and go on another rant.

“All for the best,” Fareeha smiled, stealing a quick kiss. “Speaking of sticking with your better half, how’s your wife, Zarya?”

Zarya couldn’t help but smile and look at her wedding ring. It was clear that just thinking of Mei as her wife made her giddy.

“Aw, look at her,” Lena gushed. “Still over the moon ‘bout her!”

“Da, I am. Just thinking that we’re married…gods, it’s too much,” she smiled. “She’s doing great. She got that research position she was interviewing for. She starts next week.”

“So no more ‘rearranging’ in the book store?”

“Ha ha! No, we’ll still be doing that,” Zarya laughed. “The bookstore is her family’s, and she loves working there. She’ll just have different hours. In fact, it was because of her I was able to find this.”

Zarya opened her backpack and pulled out a massive, ancient tome. She set it on the living room’s coffee table.

“That looks familiar,” Angela said.

“To you, it should. Mei’s father is a historian, and has worked on restoring old books the realm’s library has. He found this, and showed it to me; it’s a book of records from centuries ago.”

“Records for what?” Fareeha asked.

“The Shield-Maidens.” Zarya opened the book to where a massive bookmark kept place. The vellum pages were stiff with age. “It tracked the sworn sisters; dates where they entered the service, the vows they took, the branches they were in, it even tracks the deeds they performed in the name of the throne.”

Zarya gently spun the book around, and showed it to Fareeha.

“Please be gentle, the book is very old. I promised to keep it in good condition.”

Fareeha looked at the book, and saw halfway down the page was a name, written in beautiful, careful cursive.

_Angela Ziegler. Combat Healer. Ascended to the Witch of the Wilds; absolved of her vows._

“I never thought I’d see that book again,” Angela smiled.

“We never thought we’d see anything like it,” Lena said. “Imagine that, the name of the Witch of the Wilds, er, _former_ Witch, under our noses this whole bloody time. And she’s a Maiden, too!”

“Maybe they’ll let me back in when I show them this,” Angela laughed. “Wait, is that why you called us ‘sisters’ out there?”

“That’s exactly it,” Zarya said. “I wish I knew that you were a sister before, but I do now. Angela, I’m sorry that I spat on your name. We thought you were the enemy, but we were wrong. It will take me some time to adjust, but I will treat you as a sister all the same.”

“’Once a Maiden, always a Maiden,’” Angela smiled. “And don’t worry, it will take some time for me to change as well. I was only a Maiden for a few short years before I became the Witch; it will take some time to think of myself as such again.”

“It will come to you, I know it will,” Fareeha said, taking her hand. “Zarya, thank you. This was good news.”

Zarya smiled, but not as much as Lena was. She had a shit-eating grin stretching from ear-to-ear, and it wasn’t because she found a long-lost sister.

“You know what this means, right?” The little Brit laughed.

Fareeha suddenly got a sinking feeling in her gut.

“Lena Oxton, don’t you fucking dare,” Fareeha snapped.

“Of course I dare! That means you’re just like me: dating in the ranks! Can’t look down on me now, can you?”

“At least I didn’t know the woman I love is a Maiden! You jumped on Amélie _because_ she’s a Maiden!”

“Don’t matter, you’re still dating in the ranks! Ha ha!”

“I take that back, this is terrible news,” Fareeha grumbled.

“Don’t fret, we’ll make it work,” Angela laughed.

“Don’t tell me dating in the ranks was ‘frowned upon’ when you were in the Maidens.”

“Fine, I _won’t_ tell you.”

“Dammit all!”

“Speaking of sisters, how is our little sister doing?” Zarya asked, gently changing the subject for the sake of Fareeha.

“Doing well. Hana’s an excellent student, she’s picking things up just as fast as I did,” Angela said. “And she’s still staying connected to the realm, which is much better than what I did. She makes daily trips to the realm.”

“It helps that Lúcio is living with her,” Lena said. “But she’s gotta fly him into town every day so he can keep up his music career. That must be a pain.”

“Anything to keep her anchored to the realm. The last thing she needs to be is just ‘the Witch of the Wilds.’ The longer she stays ‘Hana the ascended Shield-Maiden,’ the better it will be for her.”

“Da, she’s still the favored Maiden of the realm,” Zarya said. “She needs to stay that way.”

“Oh, speaking of staying connected, she’s actually planning an All Hallows’ Eve dance,” Angela said. “She and Lúcio were going to put out invites soon, just to get it on everyone’s calendar.”

“All Hallows’ Eve? We’re only halfway through summer.”

“Yes, but she wants to use it as a reminder that she’s still part of the realm. That, and to build a mystique for the party.”

“Planning for a party months in advance will certainly get people talking,” Jack said.

“And give everyone time to get a costume ready,” Angela smiled. “It will be a costume ball.”

“Will you be wearing your witch costume?” Fareeha asked.

“Of course I will. You know I love that costume.”

“And I love seeing you wear it.”

“Right,” Jack grunted, getting up. “Think this is my cue to get out of here and start work on that garage. Lena, Zarya, get up and get your sisters ready.”

“I’ll be out to help soon,” Fareeha said. “Thanks, dad.”

That stopped Jack in his tracks.

“Y-you never called me that before.”

“You’ve done so much for me; I should’ve called you that before,” Fareeha said. She might not have a mother anymore, but she still had her father. She got up to hug him.

“Right,” he said, trying to pretend not to cry. “This garage isn’t going to clean itself. Let’s get moving.”

“Sure thing, _dad_ ,” Lena grinned.

“Not you too!”


	25. All Hallows’ Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a year since Angela passed on the rank of Witch of the Wilds to Hana. To celebrate All Hallows' Eve, the harvest, and the change, Hana has decided to throw a party. But before Fareeha can enjoy the festivities, she has to face Ana.
> 
> Edit: So Slasher:76 is one of my new favorite skins of the Halloween event. Had to update it here.

The sun was cresting the sky; it wasn’t quite setting, but it was clear that daylight was running out. Fareeha and Angela ran towards the clearing that marked the end of the realm, towards a line with dozens of other party goers, and where their friends were waiting.

“’Bout time you two got here!” Lena said, standing next to Emily. She was dressed as a classic Brit punk with a heavily studded leather jacket, while Emily was dressed as a race car driver.

“I’m sorry. _Someone_ here made us late,” Angela said, giving Fareeha a playful glare.

“But I love your Witch costume,” Fareeha laughed. And it was true. It had been a while since Angela wore it, and seeing her put it on made Fareeha more than a little frisky. As they got in line with their friends, she slyly copped a feel. Angela pinched her hand for that.

“Now that you’re not trying to put a curse on us, it is a good costume,” Mei laughed. She was dressed as a traditional Chinese Jiangshi. Zarya, who had her arm around her wife, was dressed as a barbarian, painted face and furs and all.

“Da, a good one when not striking fear into the hearts of all,” she laughed.

“Thank you, but Mei, that is an amazing costume. Both you and Zarya went all out.”

“I think Fareeha went above and beyond,” Emily said. “You look positively possessed!”

Fareeha laughed. She had spent a good long time working on her costume. She had made faux body armor, painted it purple, and lightened her face to look as if she was dead. But what made the costume work were the all-white contacts that hid her pupils.

“I can’t wait to see what Hana made,” Emily said. “Angela, can you give us a spoiler?”

“Sorry, but Hana kept it secret for me, too.”

“Damn. Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Fareeha chuckled.

“Speaking of seeing Hana,” Lena said, “how is this going to work? Why are we waiting by the clearing?”

“I helped Hana make floating carriages,” Angela said. “Well, it was more of a supervising role, seeing how I can’t use magic anymore. I helped her lay out the spell to make the carriages; they’ll carry us over the enchanted woods, to the mansion.”

“No more walking the cobblestone road?” Zarya said, shivering. “Thank the gods.”

“Look, there they are,” Emily said, pointing to the horizon.

“And right on time, too,” Lena said.

Over the enchanted woods, black dots appeared. They grew in size, revealing that they were, in fact, carriages. Horseless, flying carriages. They were made from the same dark wood that made up the enchanted forest, and they landed in perfect formation. Following them were dozens and dozens of jack o’ lanterns which hovered in the air, illuminating the path the carriages would take as the sun set. The carriages opened their doors to let the line of party-goers in.

The line cautiously moved along as the carriages were filled up, which then took to the skies, following the lanterns as they flew to the mansion. Fareeha moved up with her friends, next in line for a spot.

“Hey, kid.”

Fareeha turned around, smiling as her father tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, dad.”

That never failed to get a grin from Jack. He loved being called that.

“Gods! You look like some kind of horror movie slasher!”

“You like it?” Her dad asked. He wore an unzipped, torn up orange and black jacket. Underneath, he wore a dirty and equally torn up t-shirt. A fake axe hung at his hip, and he wore what looked like an old hockey mask.

“It’s amazing!”

“Thanks, I had a lot of fun putting it together,” he grinned.

But if her father was there, that meant he was able to talk someone else into coming.

“And is…?”

“Fareeha, please, don’t be like that. Your mother back there,” he said, nodding further down the line. “She’s the one with the other mask.”

Fareeha would never have recognized her mother without knowing that. Her mother wore a black jacket with an orange liner; it looked like there were even webs that were embroidered into the lining. But the most striking feature was the mask. It looked like a cross between a ballistic mask and a carved pumpkin grin.

“She looks ghoulish,” she was able to choke out.

“That was the idea,” Jack said. “Look, kid, I know you don’t want to have anything to do with her, but I’ve been trying to get her to talk to you for months. Hell, just getting her to agree to come to this party was like pulling teeth; when I first brought it up with her, I ended up sleeping on the sofa for a week.

“I’ve tried just about everything I could think of to get her to come around. And I’m really pulling for something tonight, but maybe it’ll help if you take the first step.”

Her, talk first? Like hell she would! Fareeha bristled at the thought.

“Actually, I want to say something to her,” Angela said.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“It might not be, but I have something I need to tell her anyways.”

Her dad gave Angela a hard glare, but relented.

“Just…no sudden movements, okay?” He sighed. “She’s packing her sidearm; she wouldn’t leave home without it.”

“She really is getting paranoid,” Fareeha spat.

“Your mother still thinks this is the former Witch of the Wilds playing the long game.”

No, she couldn’t get in this mood, not now when everything was feeling so good. Fareeha took a deep breath to calm down, and to fight her pride which was demanding that she not forgive Ana.

“Thanks, dad,” she said instead, giving him a hug. “I guess that means we shouldn’t take the same carriage, right?”

“That’d be a good idea.”

The carriages floated back over the horizon, ready to carry more guests.

“Then we’ll see you at the mansion.”

Jack nodded, and walked back to Ana.

The now empty carriages flew back, landed, and opened their doors. One carriage was enough to take Fareeha and all her friends, although it got a little cramped when Zarya got in. Lena made it easier by giving up her seat, and lying across Emily’s lap.

“Don’t get too frisky,” Zarya said. “I’m not sure this thing would like having a Mile High Club in it.”

“Aw, come on luv, you gotta live a little!”

But Lena’s attitude shifted a bit when the carriages took to the air. She yelped, and immediately latched onto one of the handles carved into the side, as well as Emily.

Everyone looked out the windows, at the dying light and the dark forest. It was quite picturesque, if not a little foreboding; the jack o’ lanterns they passed certainly added to the ambiance. It was a perfect way to travel on All Hallows’ Eve.

Soon, they came to the mansion. Fareeha hadn’t been there in a year, and outwardly, nothing had changed. Hana had of course repaired the mansion, but she had also found a way to restore the Omnics; they stood outside as silent guardians, more statues than anything else. The mansion had hundreds of floating candles surrounding it, with carved pumpkins everywhere.

“That’s a lot of pumpkins.”

“One of the first things I helped Hana with was restoring the farm,” Angela said. “And it’s a good thing, too. I love that farm.”

The carriages landed, and Fareeha was surprised to see Reaper there, dressed in a black trench coat and with another pumpkin on his head. He went from carriage to carriage, opening the door and silently welcoming the guests.

“Is that—!”

Angela gently grabbed her arm.

“No one needs to know,” she whispered. “Besides, Hana needed a guardian, and she had to know how to restore one to life. Part of the duties of the Witch.”

Reaper opened the door to their carriage, and everyone got out, none the wiser of who it actually was. As Fareeha got out, she smiled and nodded to Reaper.

“It’s been a long time,” she said.

Reaper grunted.

“Are you…is Hana good to you?”

“She is,” Reaper said.

“And you’re happy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then…” Fareeha couldn’t think of anything to say. “I’m happy for you.”

Reaper grunted, but it sounded like he was smiling.

“Yo, Fareeha, you coming?” Lena called.

“You catch up with them,” Angela said. “I need to talk to your mother.”

 

* * *

 

Ana stepped off the cursed carriage. How could they trust such things? It was clear these damned carriages were magic; was the Witch trying to lure them into a trap?

Even standing in front of the damned mansion made her uneasy. They were in enemy territory, and they were supposed to celebrate the harvest with this party? Two years ago, she was forced by the king to give Fareeha up, and now they want to celebrate that very same day?

Ana watched Fareeha walking towards the mansion with her friends. She would save her, she knew she had to.

She heard the King roar as he welcomed everyone into the mansion, dressed like the Black Knight from the realm’s folklore. The Witch even put him under her spell. But she was a Shield-Maiden; she would stay vigilant. She had to.

“Ana?”

She pulled the mask from her face and glared at the Witch. She was even wearing her damned dress like she always had done!

“So, you decided to show your true colors,” she spat.

“I wore this costume because I like it,” the Witch said. “But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”

Ana crossed her arms, partly to look intimidating, but also to gently tap her holstered sidearm.

“Please, I want to show you something,” the Witch said, gesturing her to follow.

“Like hell I will.”

“Ana,” Jack sighed. “I think you need to hear her out.”

“Why should we listen to the Witch?”

“Because it’s about Fareeha,” the Witch said. “Please. Just ten minutes.”

She should say no. But if it was about Fareeha…

_I have no daughter,_ she had said last year. The words had left her mouth before she was even aware she was saying them. Fareeha looked like she would collapse; Ana herself was in such a haze that such a horrid thing had come from her mouth, she barely remembered the rest of the evening. Even most of the morning was a blur.

She made a snap decision, one that she regretted, but couldn’t take back. They were damned words, but they were still her words, her inner most thoughts. That evil black thought, the idea that her daughter had been corrupted, truly turned against her, had been spinning in her mind ever since Fareeha had risked her life to save the Witch. And even though it was a sudden decision that she made, just knowing that she could even harbor such a thought filled her with shame.

_How could my daughter do such a thing…?_

But she had disowned her own daughter. That simply couldn’t be forgiven.

Before she knew what was happening, she was following the Witch. The Witch led her around the house, while Ana kept a good five feet back. They walked by the small farm that was behind the mansion, towards a small pathway leading into the enchanted woods.

“Trying to lead me astray?” Ana asked. She had to feel angry, she had to hate the Witch; anything to distract her from that vile black thought that swirled in her head, reminding her about the evil thing she did to Fareeha. She had been keeping that anger alive for a full year, even when it became exhausting; but she couldn’t keep it up much longer.

“Please, just a little further,” the Witch said.

She cautiously followed the Witch down the path, until they came to a wrought-iron gate. The Witch pushed it open, and led her inside.

It was a graveyard. Rows and rows of tombstones, mausoleums, and crypts greeted them. It should’ve felt strange, even unearthly, but Ana somehow felt at peace. Like there was an air of calm in the graveyard, not of any malice.

No, it wasn’t that, it was hallowed ground they walked upon; the graveyard was full of the peaceful, final rest the dead had found. The Witch had done much in the years prior, but she had always shown proper reverence towards the dead. Even someone such as her wouldn’t dare try to disturb the dead’s long deserved peace.

Eventually, they came to a row, and the Witch stopped. There was only one headstone on this row. A marble angel knelt atop a headstone, reaching down as if to offer a hand to the buried. Chiseled into the headstone was the name.

_Tess Blomqvist. Beloved by the Witch._

“This is Tess,” the Witch said. “The woman I loved when I first became the Witch of the Wilds.”

Ana wanted to spit at her, but in the graveyard, she couldn’t say anything. It felt like an affront to the dead, and she wanted to give them their peace.

“She died long, long ago,” the Witch said. “She died without regrets. But I had plenty of regrets. There are so many things I wanted to tell her, promises I wanted to make and keep, things I wish I could take back. Damn it all, the regrets I have stretch into the centuries. Do you know what it’s like, having a regret?”

_I don’t have a daughter._

Ana wanted to say ‘yes,’ but she wasn’t about to give the Witch the satisfaction.

“Can you imagine Fareeha having that regret, should the worst come to pass?”

“Are you threatening me?” Ana spat, trying to fan the flames of hate in her heart. But after a year of kindling such hate, even that had grown beyond exhausting.

“I’m asking you,” the Witch shot back. “Tess grew old, and I wanted to grow old with her. But being the Witch of the Wilds, it made me functionally immortal. She aged, I did not. And one day, she had a bad fall. And despite my magic, I couldn’t save her life. She died suddenly, and that only left me with more regrets. Can you imagine doing that to Fareeha?”

_I don't have a daughter,_ she had said _._ Fareeha looked like she would collapse.

Ana tried to be angry at the Witch. She tried to hate her, she had to hate her, if only to hide the pit of shame in her heart.

“I know you hate me,” the Witch said. “I know you despise me, and you detest the love I have for your daughter. That’s fine. You don’t have to like me. You can hate me until you die, you can spit at my name and curse it as you’re carried through the void to your eternal rest, I really don’t care, but I can’t stand seeing Fareeha in pain. I can’t stand her living every day with the regret that she can’t talk to you, and we both know she’s too prideful to talk to you first.

“Please, talk to Fareeha. You don’t have to make things perfect, but anything will make this better. Do it for her. I can’t stand seeing her filled with regret.”

Ana set her jaw, and stood rooted in place. She couldn’t tell the Witch that she was right, not the woman who took her eye, who caused so much misery in the realm.

The Witch held her glare for what felt like forever. Ana wasn’t sure she could keep the hate up any longer.

“I’ll be inside,” she eventually said. “Please, don’t stay out too late. Hana spent a lot of time planning this party.”

Ana looked at the grave. She knew she had to talk to Fareeha, so what was holding her back? Jack immediately came to mind, and the dozens of arguments they had. Her damn Amari pride was getting between her and…and her daughter.

 

* * *

 

The ballroom was filled with floating candles and chandeliers; it was like nothing had changed since last year. The only real change was a massive DJ booth set up by the fireplace, but Lúcio wasn’t there yet. Still, it was nice to see the massive room filled with people. Fareeha ducked into the kitchen, looking for a drink.

The islands and long countertops were filled with food and drink. People were lining up to grab platefuls of appetizers, sandwiches, and even entrees. Fareeha grabbed two glasses of white wine, and made her way back to the ballroom, finding Angela with her friends.

She made it just in time to see Hana fly down from the upper levels. She demurely sat side-saddle on her broom, dressed in a perfect black Gothic Lolita dress, complete with stockings, high-heeled boots, and a pink bow wrapped around her neck. She also wore a blonde wig with twin ponytails, a pink cat ear headband, she even had a cat tail poking out behind her. She was like a cute black cat.

People applauded as Hana flew over to the DJ booth. She picked up a microphone to speak to the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming,” she smiled. “It’s been a year since I’ve become the Witch of the Wilds, and I want to use this to show that the old days are behind us. Gone are the days of us living in fear; the Witch is no longer the evil hag living in the woods, she is one of us, one of the realm.

“I want to remake this day. It is no longer a day of fear, of loathing, but a time of celebration. Angela said the realm used to celebrate this as a time of harvest, and to honor the dead. So let’s celebrate that! Let’s ring in the harvest, and remember the fallen; this day will no longer be about dread! This will be about our lives!”

People cheered and toasted. Fareeha made it back just in time to give Angela her glass of wine, and they held their drinks up high.

“Hey hey, look who’s here!”

A man wearing a golden frog mask gently made his way up to the group. He took off the mask, revealing Lúcio.

“Ah, little brother!” Zarya said, wrapping an arm around him. “How is life in the mansion?”

“Big,” he said. “But the acoustics are great. Can’t wait to spin up and get the party started.”

Hana floated on over on her broom. She jumped off when she was a few feet from the ground.

“And our little sister!”

“Zarya, please, I can’t take a big hug in this dress…”

Zarya, of course, ignored her.

“You look great,” Emily said, laughing as Hana squirmed in Zarya’s massive arms.

“T-thank you…” Hana groaned.

“Oy, Zarya, try not to kill the hostess, yea?” Lena said.

“It’s just been a while,” Zara said. “I’m glad to see you happy, sister.”

She set a visibly relieved Hana down, who caught her breath and smoothed out her dress.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said.

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Mei smiled.

“I’d love to stay and chat,” Lúcio said, “but I have a party to DJ.”

“Can ya give us any spoilers?” Lena asked. “Your last EP has some killer tracks on it.”

“’Fraid not,” he smiled. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise!”

“Go tear the house down,” Hana said, stopping him for a quick kiss.

“I make plenty of music, but there’s only one Song that I love,” Lúcio said. He took a second to grab another, longer, kiss. Hana looked ready to fly away after that.

He gently pushed his way through the crowd, affixed his golden frog mask, and climbed up on the DJ booth. Seeing him, the crowd cheered.

“You ready?!” He called to the crowd. They roared in response. “Then let’s break it down!”

Disks were spun, and music began thumping out of the speakers that lined the room. The music was perfectly balanced, neither heavy on the bass nor treble, and the acoustics in the ballroom were truly excellent. Lúcio was only a few seconds into his set, but was already showing off his talent.

“Been a while since I was at a dance like this,” Fareeha said, having to yell over the music.

“This is for the young,” Angela said. “Not exactly my taste, but he’s got skill.”

“Does that mean I can’t dance with you?”

“You might have to hold off on that,” Angela said, nodding over her shoulder.

Fareeha turned around, seeing Ana walking up. She still had her mask off, and her eye on the floor. Fareeha’s stomach knotted itself, but at the same time, her blood began to burn.

“I’d better step away,” Fareeha mumbled. She walked over to the Alchemist, who gestured to the kitchen. Fareeha led her to the back, opening the door to the farm. The air was still nice and cool, and thanks to Hana and her newfound magic, the farm had been restored after being razed by their attack. She saw several Omnics acting as scarecrows, and in the distance, the barn was re-built.

When the door closed, the music fell to a dull background noise, easy to ignore.

_I don’t have a daughter._

Fareeha didn’t know what she was feeling. Pain was the foremost emotion, but just behind it was smoldering hate, anger at the betrayal, and sorrow that her mother couldn’t accept the love she had for Angela. And of course, her pride was keeping her from talking.

She set her feet, waiting. The Alchemist took a minute to start talking.

“I’m…I’m not good at saying what I want to,” she mumbled. “I thought the Witch had turned you from me. I thought…”

She broke off, looking away.

“And of course, I’ve been too damn proud to say anything until now. Too gorram proud…”

The Alchemist took a second to compose herself.

“I’ve seen you with the Witch—”

“You know her name,” Fareeha snapped.

“Yes, with…with Angela. I’ve seen you with her, about town. I thought she was planning something, anything, and that she was using you to better her cover so she could strike us down once and for all. I thought you were just a means to an end, and I was waiting for her to make a move. So I stayed on my guard, planning for when she revealed her plot, and readying myself to defend the realm against her wrath.

“But she hasn’t done anything. She has been a model citizen the entire year. And I…I can see how much she means to you, more than any of your other girlfriends. I’ve seen how you’ve stood against protesters, mobs, the random people who came up to you on the street to yell and spit at you, the endless hate on the internet…I’ve seen you fight with everything you’ve got. I can see the love you have for each other. And I’ve…I’ve treated you so poorly.”

Ana wiped tears from her eye.

“I’ve been the worst mother, despising you for the woman you love. And the thing I said…I’ve…”

Fareeha could see Ana struggle against her pride. Amaris were among the oldest names in the realm; a storied, honored name. Pride was in their veins, and admitting wrongdoing was tantamount to oath breaking.

But Ana kept talking.

“I’ve said something I should never have said,” she cried. “I can’t change that. I never should have disowned you, I never should have spat at you. Can…can you forgive me? No, not forgive; what I did is beyond forgiveness. Please, just know that I…dammit, I was too proud, too damn stubborn to see the love you have for Angela, to accept it. I just, I want you back. I want to be a woman who’s worthy of being your mother.”

The black bile of rage was rising in the back of Fareeha’s throat.

Ana thought she could spurn her, disown her, and come back and act like everything was better? She knew how much her words hurt, she couldn’t simply take it back! Where was she when she was struggling with Angela? Where was she when mobs and protesters were making their lives hell? Where was she…?

Fareeha stopped herself. Her heart was pounding in her chest. There it was, that Amari pride, that innate desire to stick to remain unchanging, damn whatever may come. It was the same pride that made it impossible for the Alchemist to see her love for Angela. The same pride that led to her being disowned.

Her father warned her of it, but it still found ways to sneak up on her. It was tough for Fareeha to push that pride aside and forgive her, but she knew it must be harder for Ana.

And then, from the back of her mind, a memory came to her.

_I don’t have a mother anymore,_ Angela had said. _Think of me as living vicariously through you._

And Fareeha knew how much pain Angela was in because of the pain she was in. But now she could actually do something about it. All she had to do was fight her damned pride.

“I…I’m not sure I can forgive you,” she mumbled. “What you said hurt me. Gods, it hurt so bad. I don’t think I can simply pretend like that never happened.”

“You shouldn’t,” Ana said. “What I did to you should never be forgotten.”

“Then that’s something we can agree on. But I know how hard this is for you to even think of saying. I mean, I can count on one hand the number of times you actually admitted you were wrong! I want to yell at you, curse you, spit at you, but dad told me about this pride we have. And that’s what it wants me to do; yell, curse, and spit at you.

“I feel that way because it’s easier than thinking on the things I should have done. I know I should have tried something this past year. Dad spent the entire year trying to get the both of us here, talking. And maybe I should have done more than just sat back, waiting for him to do all the work. Maybe I should have asked dad to talk with you about me, tried to get him to pass messages to you. Maybe I should have done something, but I chose to try and cut you out; I let dad do all the work. I kept this damn silence going, all because of this pride.

“I can’t forgive you; not now, maybe not ever. But…but I think we can do something about this. I think we can try something, to rebuild what was lost, to do something to remake this connection between us.”

Fareeha blinked. She didn’t realize that her eyes were watering, or that her mother was freely crying. They stared at each other, each knowing what they wanted to do, but were still struggling against that pride.

“Can…can I…?” Ana asked, taking a shuffling step forward.

Fareeha wrapped her mother in a fierce hug.

“I knew I lost you. I knew I threw you away. I never thought you’d even want to hear a single word I have to say,” her mother said. “Gods, I just realized how proud of you I am.”

“Proud of me?”

“You’re such a better woman than I. If your grandmother disowned me, I don’t think I could have ever accepted _any_ apology, or would have even entertained the thought of talking to her again. I would have cut her out of my life, and damn her if she ever tried to come back.”

“A big part of me still wants to. It’s hard to even look at the people who hurt you the most,” Fareeha said. “But I know that’s this damn Amari pride, and I know it will only make things worse.”

“How can you be such a good woman? I didn’t raise you like this, you must have learned it from someone far better than I.”

“Actually,” Fareeha laughed. “I’m doing this for Angela.”

Ana stiffened, but not from anger or rage, but rather from shock.

“For Angela? What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have her mother anymore,” she said. “She died so very long ago. When we first fell in love, when I came back home in the summer to see you again, she told me that she would live vicariously through me. She wanted me to go see my mother, because she couldn’t see hers.

“I guess part of the reason I’m doing this is for her. She knows that being disowned hurt me, but I’ve seen how much it weighed on her. My pain became her pain, and I don’t want to have her being hurt vicariously through me. This, this does feel good, being able to try and reconcile with you, but I want Angela to be able to be happy with me.”

Ana started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh gods, the spiteful part of me can’t believe I’m thinking this,” she laughed, “but if Angela got you to fight your pride, then she’s a good woman for you. I know for a fact that you’ve ended several relationships because of your pride; I know because I’ve done the same! But if Angela can get you to fight your pride, that means she’s good for you; none of your other girlfriends could hope to compare.”

“She’s not a good woman for me,” Fareeha said, “she’s the _best_ woman for me.”

Ana let go of the embrace, but continued to hold her daughter’s hands.

“I know now how the King felt last year,” she said. “I’ve done such a terrible thing to you, and I don’t know how to even start to make it right, if such a thing could be righted. But mark my words, I will find a way.”

Suddenly, an idea flitted into Fareeha’s head.

“Well, I would like your blessing.”

 

* * *

 

Lúcio was spinning records, making music, and keeping everyone on the dance floor. It was something for Angela to watch, if not particularly enjoy.

“Like being a wallflower?” Jack asked, sliding up to Angela. He had to almost yell to be heard.

“Just waiting for Fareeha,” she replied. “But I’m glad everyone is enjoying themselves.”

Zarya, Mei, Hana, Lena, and Emily were all dancing like no one was watching; the best kind of dancing.

“They don’t want you out there with them?”

“They do, but this isn’t my kind of music.”

“Yea, I hear you there,” Jack said. “What kind of music would get you dancing?”

“Jazz and swing, actually,” she smiled.

“Really? No shit. I haven’t been swing dancing in forever. Or jazz dancing, for that matter.”

“If your wife doesn’t mind, I’ll have to take you to an old club one day,” she laughed. “We might not have Cab Calloway, but I’m sure there are some good jazz bands out there.”

“Cab Calloway? You saw Cab play?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “It was a long time ago, back when I was the immortal Witch, but that show…it was just magical.”

“Damn, now I’m jealous. I saw a Cab Calloway cover band back when I was a kid, and they were pretty damn good.”

“Oh, the Calloway Revivals? I saw them, too!”

“How did you see them? You were the most wanted woman in the realm back then.”

“It was on open-air concert; I was flying above everyone. They’re excellent, just like the real Cab Calloway! How old were you when you saw them?”

“I was still a snot-nosed teen,” Jack laughed. “Stole some money from my dad, got my ass kicked when I got back.”

“For stealing?”

“For not taking him with me.”

Suddenly, Lúcio stopped the music. Everyone looked up, confused.

“We got a last-minute surprise here,” he said, pointing to the back of the room.

Angela turned around, and saw Fareeha walk up, her mother behind her. Everyone was looking at her, wondering what was going on.

“Angela,” Fareeha said. “This last year has been the most difficult time of my life. Everything we have, we had to fight to get. Every day was a struggle, one that we could get no relief from. There are people here who still hate you, and because of that, they hate me as well.

“But I wouldn’t trade this year for anything. It has been tough, yes, but it has also been the most blessed time of my life, because I had you with me. Damn what they say, damn what they think of you, I never want it to end.

“I was first given to you by the King, but then I freely gave myself to you. And the year I spent living in your mansion with you has been the best year I’ve ever had. I renewed the pact last year, gave myself to you for another year, but this evening, that pact comes to an end. You might not be the Witch of the Wilds anymore, but there is one more pact I want to make with you, one that will outlast the stars themselves. And this time, I have the blessing of my mother.”

Fareeha got down on one knee, and pulled out a ring.

“Can you give me a life filled with your light?”

Things would never be easy for them. There was too much bad blood, too much hate, for her past actions to simply be forgiven, or for everyone to truly believe that she has changed.

But all that was noise. Let the people who could not forgive howl and curse them every single day until the universe collapses, or until the Gods themselves perish, it wouldn’t change her happiness, and it certainly wouldn’t change her overflowing love, or her answer.

“Yes!!”


End file.
